Kuroshitsuji: The Puppet and the Puppeteer
by Elenthari Starqueen
Summary: A fanfic about "Kuroshitsuji".This is a story not about Ciel and Sebastian. Well, as you probably have guessed, Sebastian is one of the main characters, but the other one is a woman fangirls don't kill me . The action takes place 100 years earlier.
1. Chapter 1

**I.**

Crimson red; the color from which the world was born, and the color in which the world will drown in the end. Now that's a universal truth…and this night it was no exception to it.

It had been raining for hours and it seemed like the storm wasn't going to stop soon. The wind whistled through the chimney and the rain oozed down the windows. Lightning suddenly illuminated the grim scene in the room in a white, painfully revealing hue.

Crimson red blood was trickling down to the floor. Red splashes covered the walls and paintings. She was lying in a puddle of blood, holding a knife in her right hand. Her dress was torn and bleeding wounds covered her entire body. She was looking at the bodies in front of her, her long black hair tousled and her gaze empty. "How did it come to this?" She seemed to talk to the dead bodies, or maybe to herself. "Why? Why were we abandoned? Why wasn't there anyone to help us? Why was I unable to stop this? Why? Why? Why? Why I did I leave him and let him get away with this?"

That was when it happened.

She felt a presence in the room before she saw it and clutched her knife, knuckles turning white, ready to face the intruder.

"My, my, my…What a mess!" said a calm, but at the same time cold voice.

She slowly turned around. Her empty gaze fell on the figure of a man standing in front of her. His face wasn't visible; he seemed to be enveloped in some sort of evil aura.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Hah…That's a question you should answer. After all, you're the one who summoned me." said he placidly.

"Did I?" she uttered in a quavering voice. She was watching him. Her face was like fragile porcelain, but there was no trace of tears or sorrow still. He knew she was broken, though, and planned to take advantage of this fact.

"Ah… But of course you couldn't notice." smiled he ironically. "You humans are interesting creatures. Even though you always speak of your soul, still you don't understand your deepest feelings, do you? It was the call of your soul that brought me here."

"Is that so?" She didn't attempt to hide her mistrust, her voice slightly sneering.

He only laughed.

"Unlike you humans, I do not have a habit of lying. The truth is I came here to help you; I have an offer for you."

"An offer you say?" The mistrust was still there, but now mingled with something like curiosity. Ah, curiosity. One of the weak points of most of humankind, and what a beautiful weakness it was.

"Do you want me to release you from the sorrow in your heart? Do you want me to remove the weight of those painful thoughts in your mind?" His voice was seductive, low. "Do you want to avenge your beloved ones?" he drawled on, a slight smile on his lips appeared as the woman's lips visibly tinned and her jaw squared. "I can do this for you… if you want me to, that is" He bowed slightly. Then he leaned forward, offering her his hand. "If you want me to, take my hand…a small favor, my lady"

She turned around and looked back at the bodies. Red. Too much red. It bleared her vision. She could not leave it this way. She couldn't!

Her voice broke the silence, hoarse, seemingly older than before, "What is the price?"

"Oh, nothing much." said he smiling gently. "Until our covenant is over, I will be loyal servant of yours, promising never to abandon your side. But once it's done…I shall claim your soul." His smile was still as serene as ever, but it somehow seemed a dangerous smile now, like the smile of a shark before it dives upon its prey. She did not seem to notice though, far too occupied with her own thoughts.

She shook herself out of it and looked him straight into the eyes. Lightning flashed again, revealing his face to her. His black hair fenced off his face like a dark aureole. His glowing crimson red eyes were set on her. An evil smile still on his face, not bothering to hide it behind a mask of serenity anymore. He knew that he had won. He knew human nature well, very well. Humans cannot reject temptation. When they are plunged into depths of despair likened to hell, they will hold on to anything - even if it is merely a spider's thread. The prey is deceived, with sweet words and hauled into darkness only to find the thread they held on to sticking to their fingers and dragging them into the further on. Quietly, slowly, but effectively.

He was waiting for her answer. Though her face was emotionless, he was sure she had already made up her mind. But there was something off. He felt that, he knew it then; behind her glassy gaze, she had already understood what was waiting for her. What would she do with this understanding?

She answered without hesitation.

"I accept"

She took his hand and stood up, dropping the knife on the floor. Thus she was about to accept a pact which was going to change her fate forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

The old gates creakingly opened to let a lone carriage silently pass beyond the solid walls of the fence. A long white road stretched ahead, surrounded by vast emerald green fields. Old trees created a thick ark over the road, turning it into a green tunnel. A large building could be seen somewhere in the distance.

"So this is the 'Griffin Mansion' – unbelievable! I wonder how Richard Griffin, a man occupied by the texture industry, could afford such a remarkable place."

"Don't you forget, Detective Kingsley, that this is Duke Richard Griffin; the 5th landlord of Devonshire, you're speaking of. This land was originally owned by his ancestors – the noble house of Griffin, one of the wealthiest and most influent families in England. Besides in the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, he was the first to buy weaving machines and he also opened the first texture factory in London. Lord Richard was a reasonable and intelligent man, who laid the foundations of the texture industry in England. And-"

"And because of his good qualities as an entrepreneur, he was killed in the arson in one of the Griffin's texture factories 7 years ago. Am I not right, Chief Inspector O'Connor?"

The Chief Inspector threw an angry look at his younger colleague. Yes, he had an exceptional talent for a 20-year-old detective, but he still had a lot to learn about this profession. O'Connor sighed, adjusted his glasses and continued.

"Young man, you should learn your place – listen to the experienced ones first, then give them your answers. You were right about the murder of Duke Griffin and his wife. They left two children behind - Lady Eileen and Lady Kathrin. By the time their parents died Lady Kathrin was at the tender age of six years old, her sister twelve. Lady Eileen inherited her father's lands and texture manufactories. But she was still too young to take on Duke Richard's duties as a landlord. So the most loyal servant of the Griffins', Mister Archibald Montgomery, took care of the children, until Lady Eileen turned sixteen. Since then she has been taking care of the family affairs. Many expected the Griffin texture factories to close their doors as soon as Lady Eileen took up her father's duties. But she surprised them all with her intelligence and diplomacy."

"Do you believe that this may be the reason why her younger sister and loyal advisor were killed last year? Is it rivalry between companies again?"

Chief Inspector O'Connor looked into Kingsley's eyes. He saw a spark there – the spark of the desire for knowledge. The young detective wanted to know why. He wanted to know the reason. O'Connor found a resemblance between Kingsley and his younger self. As a young detective, O'Connor also had always wanted to know the truth. But as the years passed he realized that the truth was covered with blood and tears – the truth about the dark side of the human soul, exposed in the most horrible deeds, done by the least suspecting, least reasonable human's hand.

Kingsley was still too inexperienced to understand this. He was still living the beautiful illusion of a reasonable, rational world.

O'Connor sighed.

"That could be an explanation. But there aren't enough evidences to prove this hypothesis. That's why we, the of local police department recruited you, Detective Edward Kingsley, to help us solve this rather complex case."

The carriage suddenly stopped in front of a beautiful marble staircase leading to the mansion. To say it was impressing so far would be an understatement. Magnificent, and slightly daunting, that was more like it. The two men stepped out of their carriage and went up the stairs. Kingsley only now realized how old the mansion was. Though the outside of the building seemed to be completely restored, history couldn't really be hidden under new paint; memories of bygone days seemed to cling to the house, hovering around it like heavy moist air.

The tall doors at the end of the stair case opened. A young, handsome man, dressed in black tailcoat and white gloves waited for the two policemen. He was tall with thick, shining black hair and slightly reddish eyes.

"Welcome, Chief Inspector O'Connor! Lady Eileen has been expecting you." The man, obviously a butler of some kind, smiled and bowed slightly and ever-so gracefully.

"Ah, Michael! Good to see you. This is Mister Edward Kingsley." The chief inspector smiled jovially at the butler as he introduced the young detective.

"So you're the Detective from London. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Michael, the butler of the Griffin family." He slightly bowed again. Detective Kinsley wondered if he would keep that up all the time, and whether his back would be aching at the end of the day. "Please come in, gentlemen." Said the butler smoothly, interrupting Kinsley's musings.

"This way, please" said Michael and took the lead.

O'Connor and Kingsley passed the entrance hall, the ball room and the dinner room. It was all rather grand and richly decorated to the point of decadence. Kingsley had to admit to himself he was completely stunned by the size of the premises and the beauty of the interior. Various paintings hung on the walls, some of them looking old enough to originate in the Renaissance period, with deep, oily colours and incredibly details. Some of the pillars were engraved with flowers, a mingling of the organic Art Nouveau and the much more imposing classical Roman style. The marble floor was like enormous chess board, a puzzle of many-coloured tiles.

Despite of his admiration of the architecture, Kingsley noticed that there was no other servant in the house, except for the butler.

"Excuse my curiosity, Mister Michael, but aren't there any other servants in the house, except for yourself? Do you take care of this enormous place on your own?"

"Ah, but of course there are other servants, Mister Kingsley." answered Michael. "But they are occupied with the dinner preparations. And besides, taking care of the mansion is my duty as the butler of the Griffin family, isn't it?" He smiled patronizingly.

They entered the tea room. The room was smaller, but large, arch-shaped windows offered a spectacular view to the well-kept gardens. Michael stopped.

"Please, take seat gentlemen. I shall inform the Duchess you are here. If you would excuse me..." The butler bowed slightly and left quickly, barely making a sound.

Kingsley took a good look around. His gaze fell on a large painting of a man, woman and two children – two little girls. The man had a gentle face. He was smiling. The woman was wearing a white dress. Her long dark hair covered her shoulders. She was beautiful, in a simple, pure way. The two girls stood beside the man. The taller one had long dark hair, like the woman's, and the other girl looked a lot like the man – blond hair, clear, icy blue eyes.

"Is this…" he started

"Yes. That's Duke Richard Griffin and his family." answered the older man promptly.

"So the taller girl is the Duchess…"

That was the moment the door opened.

A young woman, accompanied by Michael, entered the room. She was wearing dark-blue dress decorated with black lace on the edges. A dark blue ribbon, also edged with black lace, was tied around her neck.

"Duchess Eileen." Chief Inspector O'Connor stood up, bowed and kissed her hand.

"Chief Inspector O'Connor. Good to see you again." She turned towards Kingsley. "And you must be Mister Kingsley, the new detective from London."

"Yes, my lady." Kingsley bowed (somewhat uneasily) and kissed her hand. For a moment his eyes met hers. No doubt – this woman was the girl from the painting, but she looked somehow different now, in a strange way, aside from having grown up. Her face was young, but there was no blush on her cheeks. Her gaze seemed empty - but the detective could almost feel some kind of burning fire behind those glassy eyes.

"Please, sit gentlemen." she said. "I believe we have much to discuss. Michael. The tea please." The tea was served in an original hand-made Chinese porcelain tea set. Some small cakes were also put on the table, creamy, delicious looking cakes.

"Thank you, Michael. You can leave us now." Her smooth voice was cool and obviously used to giving orders.

Michael bowed and quickly left the room.

Eileen raised her cup, took a miniscule sip, then put it back on the shining mahogany surface of the table.

"I hope you have some good news for me, Chief Inspector. Has any progress finally been made?" she asked placidly. Her voice was clam and cold at the same time. Her rather piercing, icy stare fell on O'Connor, who felt like he was being pinned to his chair and squirmed rather uncomfortably. He swallowed.

"I'm truly very sorry my lady, but I still can't give you the answer you desire." said O'Connor. Eileen squeezed her eyes into two sharp lines as her mouth thinned and jaw squared. "But… we have new clues, and I believe that we're going in the right direction…I think" Poor old 'O Connor almost started to stutter.

"That's why we came to visit you today." said Kingsley. The Duchess turned to him, pinning him to his chair with that icy gaze of hers. "We want to ask you few questions about the arson 6 years ago. We believe that there might be a link between those cases." Eileen didn't answer immediately. She watched him for a few moments. He felt that those glassy, cold, piercing eyes looking straight into his soul, searching for his true self. She was judging him: was this someone she could trust? He hoped her judgment wouldn't be too harsh.

"You think that the assassination of my parents and sister have something in common?" she asked coldly. "How is this possible? I thought you arrested the people, responsible for my parents' death."

"We…" said Chief Inspector O'Connor. "We might have made a mistake back then, my lady. It's true, that we arrested fire raisers and the man who paid them to murder your father – the Viscount of Woodsville. But there's the probability of more people, participating in the assassination – people who laid low after the arrest of the Viscount. So please, tell us if you can remember anything these cases might have in common, however small"

Eileen sighed. She raised her cup halfway to her lips, but didn't seem to plan on drinking anything from it. She was silent for a moment, then once again looked straight into the policemen's eyes.

"I am sorry, Chief Inspector. I cannot answer your question. There simply are no similarities I can think of, or even imagine. The fire in my father's factory was caused by people working for a rival of 'The Griffin Texture Company'. We are competing with different companies today, different from the ones we were up against 6 years ago. Their leaders are not the same ones either."

"I see…" said Kingsley. "But we will research those companies once again-"

The clock in the room rang three times. It was three o'clock. Eileen carefully put her cup on the table.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must take my leave. There are duties I must carry out today." Michael entered the room. "Michael will escort you outside."

The two men stood up and bowed to the Duchess.

"We'll do anything possible to solve this case, my lady" said Kingsley.

"I appreciate your efforts, Detective." she smiled ever so slightly. "Thank you for your help."

She watched them from the window in the library as the carriage departed from the manor. Even when it had disappeared, she continued staring outside. It was late summer, but she couldn't feel the warmth of the sun. She couldn't sense the tenderness of the sun-beams on her skin anymore. She was emotionless. Cold. Devoid of anything.

"You heard everything down there, right?" asked she. Even though she didn't hear him coming, she felt his presence – it was the only thing she could feel: the cold and the darkness. He was standing behind her. He was always standing behind her, watching her with his glowing red eyes.

"Yes"

"What do you think?"

"Does it really matter?" said he calmly. "You've already made up your mind, my lady. You've decided your path long ago." He smiled.

"Ah…You are right, of course." she answered. She knew he was smiling, even though she was still gazing through the window. He was smiling his serene, but somehow dangerous smile. She was the prey; he was the predator – the old tale, replayed a thousand times now. And he would never let her forget it. "It's been nearly a year. . . I have waited long enough." She paused dramatically before she continued. "Michael…That is an order!" she snapped, annoyance obvious in her voice.

"As you wish, my Mistress!"

Still smiling, he bowed to her deeply - then disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

She loathed this sort of thing. The mere thought of those who attended such events disgusted her, because she very well knew that the poisonous thorns of vanity and greed were hidden behind their beautifully decadent masks and refined elegant manners. After all this was a treacherous beauty – an elegant game of Russian roulette for the richest. But it was different this time, very different. The game was hers, and hers alone for now, and she would make good use of it. Putting on her beautiful, richly decorated mask was just part of her role – a role she would play perfectly well in order to achieve her goal. And nothing, nothing or no one would keep her from that goal.

The mirror stared back at her, a beautiful reflection of candle illuminated delicate pale face. Her graceful, swan-like neck was decorated with a strange mark in the shape of a pentagram. It would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but only complimented her sophisticated, if not somewhat strange, sensual appearance.

She was wearing flowing long wine red dress of pure Indian silk, decorated with subtle floral patterns and long black lacy gloves that shone through just a little bit, hinting the pale skin beneath it. Her hair was decorated with a small hair slide, made of silver and decorated with wine red garnets that suited her dress flawlessly. Soft eye shadow complimented the color of her eyes, making them stand out even more, like icy shards somehow caught in soft flesh. She put slight rouge on her cheeks, creating a seemingly natural rosy blush.

A sudden knock on the door disturbed her, and she slowly and carefully put her cosmetics away.

"Come in" she answered gently, a thoughtful look on her face.

The door handle went down and the door opened quietly. He entered the room and bowed deeply.

"All your requests for this night have been fulfilled, milady. The dinner has been prepared; the orchestra has taken its position in the ball room. Some of our guests have arrived already and they are expecting you in the main hall."

"Ah…Do tell them I am coming." She said without turning around. Her mirror image smiled back placidly. "But first help me with the ties of my dress, please."

He obeyed her order. She moved her long hair away from her back; he took the ties of the dress and pulled them carefully. The woman picked up the black ribbon that laid on the dressing table, but stopped in mid-movement. She looked at herself in the mirror and instinctively, almost unwillingly, touched the scar on her neck.

He, of course, noticed that unconscious move. He securely tied the ties of the dress then almost gently took the ribbon from her motionless hand, like one would help a child. As he tied the ribbon around her neck, hiding the mark, he leaned in slightly - but enough for her to feel his cold breath on her cheek- and smiling whispered into her ear:

"What do you see in the mirror?"

She was silent for a moment. Her cold eyes stared at their reflection, not any warmer than the reflected eyes on the cold glass. A fragile, porcelain doll with empty gaze and a handsome, yet mysterious red-eyed man with a cunning smile. A pale, delicate "Alice in Wonderland" girl. A lost princess, left alone in the woods in nothing but a ripped dress. She thought she could hear the clattering of the invisible chains of fate that bound them to each other: the Puppet and the Puppeteer.

"I see… I see nothing but an illusion" she said calmly. "The truth behind the mirror is different, isn't it?" Because the mirror did not contain girls, no Alice and no princess; behind the mirror was only a wall.

He did not answer - he just smiled the way he always did, satisfied with her words, maybe.

A quick bow from him, an empty routine.

"I shall inform our guests you are coming, my lady."

He turned and left the room, once again without even the ghost of a sound.

The last carriage pulled to a stop in front of the mansion just when the last rays of the sun started to melt into the shadows. The guests, obviously noblemen judging by their arrogant attitude, went up the stairs, quickly passing through the large hardwood doors. The butler quietly and patiently awaited them as always, smiling just enough to be considered polite, but not enough to be considered inappropriate. He bowed slightly to the newcomers, and then led them into the main hall.

It had been a long time since the main hall of the Griffin Mansion was this lively, overflowing with human superficiality and beauty. The hall was decorated with many flowers typical for the current season, which filled the air with a sweet, subtle yet many-layered aroma. There were chandeliers made of pure gold, glowing like a myriad miniature suns. Red silk with the emblem of the Griffin family – a griffon, holding two snakes with paws- decorated the parapet of the staircase that led to the second floor of the mansion. The clear sound of crystal glasses resounded in the premises, mingled with the sound of many different human voices. The marble floor was so clean it reflected the silhouettes of the guests like mirror. The guests were not aristocrats only, there were representatives of the upper middle-class as well – but they did their best to appear as posh as possible.

The butler stood near the staircase. With a slight tinkle, Michael focused everyone's attention on himself for the moment. Well, almost everyone. A few ladies in the back would not stop gossiping – then again, they would never.

"Ladies and gentlemen" he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear him clearly. "Lady Eileen Griffin, Duchess of Devonshire."

Everyone's gazes turned to the summit of the staircase. A young, elegant lady was serenely walking gracefully down the stairs, wearing a beautiful wine-red dress that didn't leave much of her curves to be guessed, though it revealed none of them. Black lacy gloves and a matching black ribbon around her neck completed her striking outfit. Many privately thought of her as a beautiful mirage, since she didn't appear to be touching the ground, but to walking on air instead.

"Good evening, dear guests." She spoke with her melodious voice. "I bid you welcome and I'm glad, that all of you were able to respond my invitation. Thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate with me the success of our Texture Company. Now, please follow me into the dining room."

Michael opened the doors to the east wing of the house in one quick, sweeping motion.

The dining room was perfectly prepared for the event. The solid oak table was covered with sparkling white silk tablecloth rimmed with golden threads. The tableware was one of a kind: the set was brought in Dresden, Germany and every single plate had been painted by hand with floral motives. The wine-glasses were made of clear crystal and had the emblem of the Griffins engraved in them. Luxury was obviously the trademark of the Griffin family if anything.

Lady Eileen and the other guests took their assigned places. Servants immediately filled their glasses to the brink with the finest wine of the country. Lady Eileen, however, didn't take the time to appreciate it, took her glass and stood up.

"I think everyone present here knows the occasion for our gathering tonight. We are celebrating the opening of a new Griffin Texture Factory in Germany. I am truly happy that you, dear guests, decided to share this great success with me. Let us toast to progress and friendship!" everyone followed Eileen's lead and raised their glasses, then took a sip. "Michael…The dinner, please."

The butler bowed, and then once firmly clapped his hands. The doors flew open and maids carrying silver trays with diverse, exotic meals came into the room, filling the air with an intense, mouth-watering perfume of food.

When the stars came out later, the guests moved to the ballroom. The orchestra was played the most tender classical tunes of Bach and Mozart, though the guests did not seem to appreciate it as much as they could have. Some were waltzing; but others, most others, were talking with each other about the newest invention or the latest gossip in the royal court. Some things would never change, and the insipidness of small talk was one of those things.

"Lady Eileen! So good to see you my dear!"

"You look fabulous, as always, Duchess."

"Ah! Lady Elizabeth! Lady Annette! It has been a while."

Lady Elizabeth, the wife of Baron Mortimer, and Lady Annette – the wife of Count Owen, were sisters. And by some strange coincidence they were both widows. Eileen suspected dead by depression, caused by some sort of genetic skill to annoy to death inherent in both sisters.

"You haven't changed, my dear. Your face may be a bit paler then before, but you are still beautiful." said Elizabeth.

"Ah, my dear, you should get married soon. Or at least engaged. The people are talking. I don't believe you're short on candidates. Take us as a model – our husbands may have died (God bless their souls!) but we don't plan to stay alone to the rest of our days. Look, this is my new…friend - come here Peter." A young boy, maybe around Eileen's age, smiled at them. "This is my Peter. He's such a good and clever boy and…."

Eileen didn't pay much attention to the ladies' scolding. She was watching their performance with cold eyes, like they were nothing but shadows dancing in front of her.

Someone coughed behind her.

"Excuse me for the interruption" said the man. He had obviously just arrived, because he still had his cloak on. "Duchess" he bowed and kissed her hand. "It's good to have you with us again."

"Count de Ville. I'm glad you've come." Eileen answered. She smiled slightly, but at least seemed to mean it this time.

"How in the world could I miss this event? Our companies might be rivals, but I am happy to hear that your plan to expand your activities in Europe was successful after all. Despite of all the risks you had to take."

"You know what they say: keep your friends close and your enemies even closer." She smiled sweetly again. Count de Ville was the leader of the De Ville Texture Company that became a household name just few years ago, when Eileen turned sixteen and took up her father's duties. The two companies had been rivals ever since.

"As charming as always." the Count answered amicably. "Now, if you excuse me, my lady. I need to refresh myself after this long journey to your lovely presence I am sure it is worth it though…." He bowed, whirled around and disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

It was about midnight now, but they left the curtains open; the contrast of the light inside and the dark outside seemed to add to the atmosphere. As the time passed, Eileen grew more and more bored. She had to paste the stupid smile all over her face during all the meaningless conversations that filled the evening, and her cheeks were starting to hurt. All the faces around her seemed identical to her – the same masks with the same false expressions. A true masquerade, no less than the Venetian carnival.

She called Michael from where she sat on her chair and handed him a small piece of paper. As he received the paper he nodded curtly, and then went off to somewhere. He returned to her and whispered something into her ear a few moments after. Eileen stood up quickly and headed for the gardens with Michael without being noticed.

It was a quiet night here in the desolated gardens bathed in the silver shimmer of the moon. Most of the flowers had closed their blossoms, but there were some that could only bloom under the tender light of the moon, and so they did. The silhouette of a male figure was vaguely to be seen in the dusk. Eileen and Michael quickly walked in his direction.

"I thought you wanted to speak with me in private, Duchess." It was Count De Ville. He sent Michael a distrustful glance, Eileen noticed.

"No need to worry, count. Michael is my most loyal servant. He is actually the only one I can fully trust, and I keep no secrets of him. Now to the question; I need some information, dear Count." Eileen answered coldly.

"Ah…It all makes sense now. This ball is only a veil, isn't it? No wonder I saw some familiar faces, all of whom fit in the list of the prime suspects in the "Griffin case". And those old hags Elizabeth and Annette? I have always thought you hated gossip, do you not? But you needed someone to change the old rumors about yourself to new ones, right? My, my, my, Lady Eileen. You came to be not only beautiful, but very clever woman as well." answered the Count. Well, purred, more like it. "But if you seek the murderer of your family, I am not the one. I knew your father very well; he was the only man I could count on. Yes, I am ambitious, very cleverly observed… I would never do something against him or his family."

"I know that. I never suspected you in murdering the man who gave you enough money to start a business of your own." De Ville snorted. "But I know also about the…bonds you are so dedicated to with some people of the Underworld of London."

"You mean to say you want information about our little secret society, do you now, my dear? Very well then, but not here. And most certainly not now. There are too many people." He put on his cloak and tipped his hat. "Come in London, then we'll have our discussion, where we could talk without being interrupted. I shall take my leave for now, my lady." He bowed low and kissed her hand; then disappeared in the darkness of the night.

She stood completely still for a few moments without saying a word. Michael quietly watched her. When she finally turned and spoke, it was an order.

"Michael…In one-week time we are to be leaving for London. Ensure the necessary preparations for the journey, please."

"As you wish, my Mistress."

Sarcastic as always, she muttered to herself as they all walked back to the mansion, and wondered if he heard that.

5


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

She slowly sank into a big black leather arm-chair up in the study, finally taking a rest after the long tiring journey. Her gaze was locked on something behind the large French windows that framed the picture of the approaching autumn. The landscape was painted in grayish, subdued hues; vague outlines of faraway hills hardly visible through the chilly mist, though it was about noon already. How typically English. Small flecks of gold and orange peeking through the mist hinted the first many coloured leaves of fall, though most of the trees were green still. The flowers already one by one abandoned their bright colors, preparing for the long cold winter. A few coloured dots still sprinkled over the hills, but their numbers lessened every day or hour even. The sky didn't help either; it had been a moody grey for days now, not about to release the unshed rain it had held for a while, resulting in a grayish white sky like an empty sketchbook.

This monochrome picture happened to match the image of her inner world at least. The sun wouldn't have warmed her if it had shone at last, and snow, oh well, she wouldn't have felt much of its cold. Her senses didn't really register the outside world anymore – they had been stomped on until they simply stopped functioning. She was a withering orchid, frost-bitten during what should have been the brightest days of her life – and she didn't even feel it.

So there she sat motionlessly behind her expensive gleaming solid beechen desk and read one of the piles of papers in front of her without really seeing anything. They were all connected with the accounting affairs of the Griffin Texture Company and terribly important: financial reports, some information about the import and export of materials and so on. A quick look through the papers was all she could make herself do at this time to kill some time. Going through the documents in a slapdash sort of way, she was vaguely pleased - everything seemed fine. No losses for the past three months, and some unexpected profits. Good.

She put the papers aside and took a look around the room. The study wasn't very spacious, but it was filled with everything needed and decorated nicely enough, though not exactly her personal taste. It had been decorated in a typically overdone baroque style by her late mother: thick carpet with floral motives on the floor, a huge bookcase filled to the brink with dusty (though probably valuable) old books covered one of the walls; various paintings of ladies in enormous baroque dresses in lively, sugary colours covered on most of the vertical space still left bare. There was even enough space for a small, oak tea table and two arm-chairs, one of which was currently occupied by her.

A well known feeling of darkness and cold suddenly disturbed her, and she shivered involuntarily.

"There is no need to knock on the door and you know it. Come in!" she said loudly and in a quite unladylike manner.

The door opened slowly though without a sound, which was quite a feat in a house as old as this one. He entered the room elegantly carrying a small salver in his right hand.

"Your tea, my lady." he said. He put the salver on the desk and poured some of the hot liquid in a small flowery porcelain cup. She thoughtlessly picked the cup up and took a sip, an absent look on her face. He continued: "There's a letter for you. It came in just few moments ago." And presented the letter to her on the salver like a dish, and she recognized the seal pressed into the red wax immediately.

"That was a bit faster than expected" she muttered under her breath.

She started reading carefully, actually paying attention to what she read for the first time this rather lifeless morning. He interestedly observed her as her glassy eyes flicked over the lines. Once again no emotion appeared on her pale face – she looked as expressionlessly and emptily beautiful as always.

"The count is ready to receive us this evening." she said as she folded the letter into a smaller size. "9 o'clock. I have to admit – count De Ville has his ways. I thought I would receive this letter later." She took another sip from the tea and unconsciously stared at the yellow paper with the red seal.

"Pardon me, my lady, but are you sure you can actually trust this man?" he asked.

Her icy, empty gaze moved from the letter and looked straight into his reddish eyes. He felt that she was surprised by his simple question, maybe trying to find a hidden trap behind it. That amused him, and he found himself smiling slightly patronizingly before he continued:

"You said it yourself – the nobles always hide their true identity behind a mask. Can you truly be sure of the count's honesty?"

She was silent for a moment, then she answered with her calm, but at the same time cold voice:

"There's no such thing as sureness. There always will be a probability of untruth, concealed behind beautiful words. That's why the small seed of doubt always grows in the human's heart. That's why you're the only one I can trust, because you're the only one, that would never lie to me – you have no gain if you do, am I not right?"

He smiled his serene, but at the same time cunning smile:

"Am always at your service, my lady – to the very end" he said and bowed and. Her face stayed emotionless to this act of loyalty.

"Go now and make the necessary preparations for tonight" she ordered.

"As you wish, my Mistress" answered he and still smiling, quietly left the room.

The carriage stopped in front of the solid staircase, made of white stone. The door opened and a man, dressed in black topcoat and white gloves, hopped gallantly on the ground. He turned back, tenderly took the hand of a woman and helped her to get off the carriage. She was wearing an elegant olive dress, made of the finest velvet, and a matching ribbon with a dark-green rose. Her black hair was put up in a bun, decorated with emerald hairpins.

As they were going up the stairs, the doors at the end of the staircase opened. Soft candle light illuminated the faces of the arrivals. The old maid bowed and greeted them:

"Welcome to the De Ville mansion, Duchess Griffin! The count is waiting for you. Follow me, please!"

The De Ville mansion was one of the oldest in London. It seemed that the years had spared the unique style, in which it was built and decorated – it was a strange mixture between Baroque, Rococo and Renaissance. The solid building was built at the end of the 17th century. The façade was richly decorated with various flower ornaments.

They passed the entrance and the main hall. The floor was covered with variegated carpets, all of them hand-made. The ceiling pictured clear blue sky - only some small white fluffy clouds were to be seen in the edges. The marvelous crystal pendants reflected the light of hundred candles as if the sun itself was in the room. Many of the pictures on the walls recreated scenes of the daily life of the nobles.

Marble staircase was leading to the second floor of the house. As they climbed up, the maid turned right and took the corridor to the West Wing.

"This way, please" she said and quickened her step.

Though it didn't seemed to be, the corridor was quite long. The stone floor was covered with thick red carpet. Countless paintings of the members of the house De Ville hanged on the walls, which created the strange feeling, of being constantly watched. The maid stopped in front of a large painting of a man and his hunting dog. He was wearing a general's uniform, with lots of medals on it. Around his waist he had his sword and in his right hand he was holding a rifle. On the right side of the painting there was a cooper candelabra. The maid pulled one of the candles and triggered a secret mechanism, which opened a door behind the painting. The maid bowed and then quickly disappeared down the corridor.

Eileen and Michael stepped through the secret door. The premise wasn't very spacious and it's decoration wasn't as spectacular as the decoration in the main hall. The floor was made of wood; no carpet covered it. No paintings hanged on the walls. There was a large table placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by fourteen chairs. Some other chairs were arranged near one of the walls, maybe for other guests.

They were enveloped by the curls of smoke from the cigarettes, slightly illuminated by the light of the candles. The very air in the room was filled with the heavy aroma of the tobacco. Eileen looked around. As her eyes got used to the gloaming in the room she could see many silhouettes, observing her and her servant. The Underworld Society of the Aristocrats: a secret organization, occupied with the dark affairs of the nobles.

"Ah, my dear Duchess! Welcome, welcome!" a friendly voice said. It was the count. He came to Eileen, bowed and kissed her hand. "I'm glad you've come! It's pleasure to have you with us. But why are you standing there, my lady, come and join us."

He led the Duchess and the butler to the poker table, placed in the middle of the room. As she sat, Eileen saw some familiar faces and some completely new ones. Probably they were from the upper middle class, who just married the daughter of a declining landlord to claim their family's title. Her glass was immediately filled with the finest wine from the count's vault. She greeted everyone.

"I can't believe that a member of the Griffin family would attend such a meeting." an old man on Eileen's left said.

"Things change, Baron Clifford." she answered with a slight smile.

Baron Clifford was a very selfish and insolent man, who never had respect for women. For him they were just beautiful jewels in the man's crown.

"It seems that the great house of Griffin haс found merit in our little society." He said arrogantly.

"Aren't you here for the same purpose?" asked Eileen. Her voice was cold and her empty, but icy glare stared at the baron, pinning him to his chair. His face turned red, but he couldn't say a word to the young woman beside him.

"Now, now…" started count De Ville, trying to prevent the upcoming conflict. "Duchess would you like to join our little poker game?"

"Of course, she answered."

The count gave her two cards and chips to start. The game began. The first four rounds passed quickly, without very reasonable conversations. Eileen played her cards well and remained at the showdown against Count Vladimir Ivanovitch, representative of the Russian aristocrats, working at the Russian embassy in London.

"So…Duchess Griffin, what brings you here?" he asked. "We are about to show our cards, and we all eager to hear the reason for your visit this evening. Is your visit anyhow related to the Griffin Texture Company?"

"A personal request brought me here tonight." answered she simply, as she received her last card. "Your bet, count?"

"A personal request, you say" said count Ivanovitch. There was a tang of curiosity in his words. "That sounds interesting. What kind of personal request this could it be... Excuse us for our curiosity, Duchess, but it's a rarity to see you in public. I bet everything, of course. Do you accept?"

"I'd rather not say." answered the Duchess. "I accept the bet."

"It seems that you won't reveal your cards till the very end, my lady." smiled the count. "Now then…Showdown"

The count flipped his final card. It was the Heart's King

"It seems that I have Straight in Hearts, Duchess" said the Ivanovitch. "The game is over."

"Not until I turn my final card, Count." She flipped the card and smiled cunningly. An Ace in Spade. "Royal Flush in Spade, dear count. After all the win is mine."

"It seemed, you've played your cards exceptionally well, my lady."

"Well not always the good cards help for the win, Count. I have to confess, I had an ace up my sleeve." said she laughing. Michael observed from behind, smiling slightly.

"Charming as always." He bowed and kissed her hand. "It was an honor to play with you, Duchess Griffin."

Later the same evening count De Ville and the Duchess sat in two arm-chairs in one of the corners in the room.

"I think it's time to continue our conversation from that evening, dear Count." said Eileen. She couldn't hide her annoyance in her voice.

"Oh, it seems that you didn't enjoy our little gathering this evening, my lady." said the count with a serene smile on his face.

"There's no need to pretend, Count De Ville. You know very well that I'm not quite fond of social activities. So, please, let's go straight to the question. What do you know about the murder of my sister?" she asked calmly, but at the same time there was a slight tang of anger in her voice. Her glassy eyes were set on the count, demanding to reveal her everything he knows. Small bread of sweat came up his forehead. He couldn't resist that gaze of hers – it was empty, but some how enchanting.

"Alright, then." said he. "I'll tell you everything, I know, though it's not much." He paused for few seconds then continued: "After your sister's death, I questioned some of my…friends from our little society, if they, by any chance of course, knew something about the matter. The results from my private research are that no one from the Underworld of London is connected with the murder from one year ago."

"But it doesn't mean, that it wasn't organized by someone, who has bonds with your secret society." interrupted Michael. De Ville looked at the young butler and watched him for few seconds. Then he turned again to the Duchess – she had that persistent look.

"Well, well, well, Duchess. It seems that you have one very clever servant as well."

"After all I have to be worthy to be the butler of the Griffin family." said Michael, bowed slightly and smiled his serene smile.

"Very good thinking, young man." continued the Count. "Your butler has right, Lady Eileen. I have some suspicions, that someone, involved with the Underworld Society, is related with the murder of your sister."

"Do you suspect a certain someone" asked the Duchess. Again her voice was calm, but in her eyes flashed a spark – the spark of hope.

"Unfortunately, no." said the Count, shaking his head. "But I have this" he handed a play card to the Duchess – the Jack of Spades. "You see, we have our ways to get information and to…remove the obstacles in our way. For that purpose we need the services of …"

"Professional assassins…I presume" said the Duchess, staring at the card

"That is correct. Though we never get to speak with them, we communicate through another person. This card will lead you to him."

"You don't know his name?" asked the Duchess mistrustfully.

"Of course I do, but you see I have a reputation. And I'm sure, you can resolve this little puzzle."

Eileen gazed at the count for a while, as she was judging is he telling the truth.

"Thank you for your help count. And now if you excuse me, I shall take my leave."

"That would be the wisest, Duchess. Please, let me escort you to your carriage."

It was quiet, starry night. The moon was already high in the clear sky, as the Duchess got on the carriage.

"Have a save journey, dear Duchess" said the count and kissed her hand. "And for your father's sake be careful – the risk you're taking now is greater than ever."

Lady Eileen looked straight into his eyes.

"I'm well aware of that, count. And I'm ready to pay the price for my self-confidence." said she categorically. "But thank you for your help and advices. I wish you good night."

"Good night, my lady." And the carriage drove away.

The count stared at the road for a while, thinking about the enchanting gaze of the Duchess – these glassy eyes, which desired nothing but the truth. No doubt – that was the little girl from the painting back at the Griffin's mansion, but at the same time the young woman was just a resemblance of this black-haired child. She looked more like a withering flower, frost-bitten during what should have been the brightest days of her life.

6


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

It was rather cold night. It had been raining for hours. The rain drops oozed down the roofs, then fell on the ground, joining in small streamlets. Slight mist covered the paved road. The streets were slightly lighted up by the few battered street lamps – a light, suited more for a graveyard then for a residential district. However the surroundings created the same grim feeling: Some of the houses had no windows and roofs, others were half demolished. Most of the buildings were abandoned…or at least they seemed to be. There was no living soul on the streets either, except for the topers, coming out from the few local pubs. In matter of fact, maybe the pubs were the only lively place around here. And that was comprehensible. After all the East District was one of the most dangerous places in London, especially at night.

Suddenly a cloaked silhouette emerged under the faint light of the street lamps. The shadow moved with quick pace, at one moment hiding, at another - coming out of the darkness. It headed to a pub across the street.

The building looked more like a ruined cottage, but still had a big wooden sign with a washed out inscription, which supposed to be read "The King of Spades", and strange looking painting, maybe the King of Spades himself. However the pub was more popular with its other, and more fitting, name – The Pit.

The entrance door of the pub opened. The glimmering candle light illuminated the figure of a cloaked woman. She took a quick look around – the interior didn't differ from the exterior. The walls had huge cracks and some of the windows were broken. She only saw around 10 men, sitting in the tavern. The stench of alcohol and tobacco filled the air. As she stepped in her long black silk dress billowed behind her. Her proud, firm walk suggested that she wasn't a local; by all means she'd be coming from the central districts of London, where the nobles and their servants lived. All those present fixed their gazes on the newcomer, trying to take a good look at her, but because of the cloak they couldn't see her face. Ignoring their presence the woman went to the barkeeper. She had few words with him; then showed him something like playing card. The barkeeper nodded and unlocked the backdoor. He gave her a sign to go through.

Behind the backdoor there was a staircase, leading to the basement of the pub. At the end of the staircase there was a wooden door; it seemed to be more solid then anything else back in the salon. She slightly pushed the door handle and entered the room.

"Oh, a customer!" a friendly voice said. "Please come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable!"

The room was lighted up with the tender light of a few candles. A young man escorted the woman to her seat. He was dressed simple – black trousers, white shirt, ridiculous dark brown Knaveet. His ponytail jumped up and down with every movement of his - he seemed to be the energetic type. With an elegant spin he sat on the chair in front of her. The solid desk was the only barrier between them. Actually there was nothing else in the room, except for the two chairs and the desk, not even windows.

"So, my dear lady, what can I do for you?" he asked. He set looked at her as he was trying to see her face under the cloak. "I see that you're the shy type. There's something troubling you – unfair distribution of the family's wealth, grown tired of your husband or even…annoying lover, maybe?"

"Actually…" She started taking off her cloak. "It's none of what you mentioned." Her long black hair fell on her shoulders. There was a black ribbon tied around her neck. The candle illuminated her pale skin. Her beautiful, glassy eyes were set on him.

As she completely reviled her face, the man stayed speechless for few moments.

"Now ain't that a surprise!" finally he said. "Lady Eileen Griffin, the Duchess of Devonshire!" He stood up and bowed to her in a very clumsy way. "It's an honor!"

"No need of formalities, dear sir." Eileen said with some boredom in her voice. Obviously she had grown tired from such clichés. She leaned on the chair, crossing her hands. "I need to speak with you, Mister Knave. I hope that's your name."

"I have many and different nicknames, my lady. It depends on the customer, how he or she will call me. But it doesn't really matter, does it?" he answered. He smirked. "Now how can I serve the great Griffin Company?"

She smiled slightly.

"The matters of my company I'd rather solve myself, dear Mister Knave. It's not in my policy, you see, to contact…people as yourself in order to remove the obstacles in my way." She didn't try to hide the arrogance in her voice. That arrogance, typical for the aristocrats.

But it seemed that the Knave wasn't offended by her attitude, after all that was part of his job. Contrariwise – he got even more interested in the Duchess' purpose. It was a puzzle he wanted to resolve.

"Excuse my rudeness earlier, Duchess. I didn't mean to offend your Company's good name. But then, if I may ask, why you've come?" he looked at her bit perplexed.

"Oh, I believe that you already know the reason for my visit. So let's skip the unnecessary babbling and get to the point." answered Lady Eileen with her calm, but at the same time cold voice. She pinned him to the chair with her icy gaze. "I want some information, nothing more."

The Knave's expression changed. His bewilderment suddenly disappeared and his face turned serious. The man stood up and walked around the desk. She watched him carefully with her glassy eyes.

"You see, Lady Griffin, my job is very complicated. I play the role of a Messenger. I'm having conversations with our costumers, though it's rare for me to speak with them face to face. Also I'm negotiating payments, making assignments. Your request is quite special and that makes it quite expensive too, don't you think?"

"Isn't that enough?" asked she calmly and threw a small bag on the table. It rang out with the sound of metal as it touched the surface of the desk. The Knave took the bag, untied it and looked inside. He took out a small golden coin and picked it towards the candle light and smiled. He looked like a small child, studying a completely unknown object for him. He started playing with the coin with his fingers, then spoke:

"If I have to be honest – no."

The Knave stood in front of her, leaning on the desk. He had fixed his gaze on Eileen, greedily observing her. Though her haughtiness he couldn't deny her exceptional charm. In matter of fact she was the seduction itself. Her withering youth was beautified by her tender porcelain skin and the emptiness in her eyes.

"You…you're just as they say, Duchess Griffin. Fair, but cold. And thorn in many entrepreneurs' flesh. " said he finally. "And that's profitable. The payment you offer me, isn't even the half of what I could get from you." His hand rapidly took out a knife out of his pocket, putting the blade against her throat. She didn't even blench – she stayed expressionless as always. "There's no need to scream, my lady. No one can hear you down here. And besides…upstairs there are 10 well-trained assassins, who won't hesitate to claim the prize for your head. Do yourself a favor and save up a painful death and humiliation."

He cut the black ribbon around her neck. As it fell on the ground Knave noticed a pentagram formed mark on her elegant neck.

"What a delicate neck you have, Duchess. Do you hide it because of this mark of yours? Actually, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, my lady, but I'm that kind of person, who seeks profit in everything and I'm ready to claim it as my own, when I find it. It seems you've had back luck this time."

Eileen observed him for few moments then started laughing. Finally she took a deep breath and looked back at him with her empty, glassy eyes. Her icy gaze almost made him step back. Then she turned her head slightly towards the door and said with a tang of annoyance in her voice:

"How long do you plan to simply stand behind the door, eavesdropping?"

The door opened quietly, as if it did it on its own. A red-eyed man, wearing a black topcoat and black leather gloves, holding a cat appeared. The cat jumped off his arms.

"Forgive me, my lady. I got slightly carried away for a moment. You know my passion for cats." said he, bowing to her. His reddish eyes fell on the Duchess and he continued with a cunning smile. "Besides… It's a rare view to see you in such weakened state with a knife against your throat. Please, let me enjoy the sight just for a little bit more."

A spark flashed behind Eileen's eyes. She continued:

"Would you please stop playing around?" she sighed. "I got tired from this game already. Could we move along?"

"As you order, my lady." he said still smiling and entered the door. Slightly he started taking off his leather gloves.

The Knave couldn't realize the scene he had just witnessed. He stared with dumb expression at the red-eyed man as he approached him slowly. The assassin felt a strange feeling, he couldn't describe himself. Some unknown dark presence filled the room with fear:

"Who…"

Not even having the chance to ask, the red-eyed man took with rapid speed the knife from Knave's hand. In the next moment the Knave found himself lying, pinned on the floor with his own weapon. He couldn't move a muscle. The man in black stood beside him, fixing his gloves. The Knave felt the awful pain in his back from the impact with ground.

"Who are you?" ask he. His voice sounded a bit thick. "How did you get here?"

The man beside him looked at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me." he bowed slightly. "My name is Michael. And I'm the one worthy to be butler of the Griffin family. As far for your colleagues, Mister Knave. Lady Eileen asked me to keep your privacy. It's my duty as a butler to grant the wish of milady, you see." The butler smiled his serene smile.

The Knave stared at Michael with amazement. Was it a possible? A bare-handed butler against 10 trained assassins. That sounds…ridiculous.

A clack woke the Knave from his hypnosis. He turned his head, following the sound.

"Excuse me for the interruption, but I have more important matter to discuss with you." Eileen stood beside the assassin, pointing a loaded silver gun against him. Michael had stepped few steps away. "Now, would you be so kind to give me the information, I need, dear sir. It's just two names – the one of the man, who ordered the murder of my sister and the other - of the man, who carried out the assignment, that's all."

The Knave was silent for few moments then started laughing.

"Or what? You will shoot me?" he said without hiding his mockery. "Come on, Duchess! We both know you won't pull the trigger. No, you _can't_ pull the trigger, can you, my lady? In matter of fact none of you, the nobles, can. That's why you need us. We are the only people, who are ready to get their hands dirty because of you. Do you want to know why we do it? Because we like it. No, we love it! We love to take away everything precious to you, you arrogant, egoistic aristocrats!" he paused for a second, and then continued. "Tell me, Duchess, how pain feels like? What is the feeling to loose your most beloved person in your arms, knowing you can't save him?" he noticed that Eileen shivered and smiled evilly. "They say, lady Griffin that your younger sister screamed from fear and pain as the assassin slowly was tearing her body with his knife. Do know who she was calling? She was calling for you, my lady. And you weren't there to save her. You let her die all alone in this big mansion of yours, even though you swore on your parents' grave to protect her…"

A bang resounded in the room. The air filled with the smell of gunpowder. The crimson red color of blood painted the floor. The Knave screamed and looked at his left hand.

"Dare me once more, you vermin" Eileen's voice was still calm, but threatening." and I will take your life so slowly and painfully, that I swear you will beg the demon himself to come and claim your soul!" Michael chuckled to himself. "Tell me the names!" Eileen pointed the gun at Knave's head, reloading it.

The Knave stared at her with fear. This wasn't the woman from few moments ago. Still her porcelain face was expressionless, still her voice was calm and cold, but behind her glassy eyes there was tiny spark, which now turned into fire. Her burning glare was set on him, looking deeply into his eyes, turning his soul into ashes. He couldn't resist her gaze. The Knave felt small and defenseless.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you." he said. He took a deep breath and continued. "Usually I meet up with the customers and then contact an assassin, to carry out the assignment. This time it was different. The assassin contacted me and instructed me to meet with the customer. The customer of course sent a servant of his to arrange through me the payment. No names were used during that time. I only had received letters, tied up with black ribbon and black rose. There's only one assassin in England, who works like that. In our circle we call him the Phantom. His signature is black ribbon and rose. No one knows how to contact him. In matter of fact he chooses his assignments on his own. The Messengers like myself are just the link between him and the customer. And as far for the customer…I can't answer that question, Duchess, for I really don't know who he or she was. That's all I know."

Lady Eileen remained silent, without moving her pinning glare off the Knave. She looked like an icy Themis, judging if he had said the truth or not. Finally she took down the gun. Knave breathed a sigh with relief. Michael observed the scene carefully.

As Eileen passed by the butler she stopped. Without turning her head towards him she ordered:

"Finish him off!"

"As you wish, Mistress!" Michael bowed; then faced the Knave.

"What?! Wait! I told you the truth! That was everything I know! Please!" Michael approached him, taking off slowly his leather gloves. "You, butler! Please spare my life, take hers instead! I promise that I'll give you whatever you want! Please!"

"I'm sorry, Mister Knave, but I can't accept your offer." he finally took off his gloves. "You see, I have no interest in currency made by human hands. Besides as long my Mistress has the sign of the Contract, I'll be a loyal servant of hers," he lifted his left hand. There was the same pentagram-formed mark as the scar on Eileen's neck. "Until the time her soul becomes mine!"

Knave looked confused at Michael.

"What are you?" asked he.

"Oh, nothing special." answered Michael, smiling. "As I said I'm a butler…and a demon…"

The butler's eyes were glowing in crimson red; he wasn't hiding his evil smile behind the mask of kindness and serenity anymore. The Knave turned to Eileen, seeking for her mercy maybe. And there she was, sitting in the arm-chair. She had rested gently her head on her hand. The Duchess observed them with her empty gaze. She looked like a beautiful, yet cold-hearted Queen with burning glassy eyes, sitting on a throne of fire and ice.

The rest was darkness…

The horses' hoofs clattered merrily on the pavement in a perfect 5/4 rhythm, as if they were dancing to some unheard song. The carriage traveled slowly, stately, flanked by the dark silhouettes of the tall trees that surrounded the road. The tender moonlight almost couldn't wriggle its way down to the path through the thick dark green canopy.

The woman was powerlessly slumping backwards in her seat and had closed her eyes as if she was either was asleep or dead. Her chest lifted and then sank with her every breath, proving the latter assumption false. She held the torn ribbon in her hand as if it were some kind of treasure, fist clenched tightly in her slumber.

Lust. Vanity. Gluttony. Greed. Envy. Sloth. Wrath. The seven deadly sins.

They have the power to change purity to impurity, honesty to dishonesty, good to evil. Having seen all of them and their influence on the human's soul, he couldn't deny that he had picked a favorite one after all this time. A personal fascination; Wrath.

The seed of wrath was always planted in the human's soul, patiently waiting for it's time. It started growing when the harmony in the human's small, private world was gone. An once it started, it didn't stop; it never did, driving the weakened mortal into the depths of despair and the depths of him or herself, places no one really wants to see. It grew into inordinate and uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger. The sorrow was its sun and the tears – its rain. And the most important thing – it was effective. Wrath was one of the greatest weaknesses in human's nature; it could turn the wisest and the bravest man into worthless and defenseless being, left to be torn apart by his own cruelty.

He observed her for a while, his red eyes eerily glowing like those of a cat, and smiled. He knew very well she was just pretending asleep. How very charming of her to think otherwise.

"You couldn't pull the trigger, could you?" he asked the sleeping figure. His question sounded as ironical as always. "Don't you think it dangerous to show me your many weaknesses?"

She opened her eyes slowly, like she really did come out of a deep sleep. Her pale form was lightened by the cold moonbeams, making her look like a corpse. Her glassy gaze fell on him, slowly, like it had to struggle through some liquid instead of air.

"Showing you my weakness, you say." She answered serenely. "No…You know my weaknesses even better then I do. You knew them back then." she sighed softly. "This is an insipid masquerade, a useless one, for both of us know what is behind the other's mask. Behind my mask of a strong-willed woman I am a weak person. If I was not, I would not have accepted our arrangement, and you very well know it."

He sent her a long look. Silence was his only reply, but he smiled at the woman as if satisfied with her answer. She turned her head the other way, silently gazing through the window at the dark shades outside. They remained silent till the end of the journey.

6


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

The old clock in the hall was silent still – but it wouldn't be for much longer, as it was about quarter to eleven. Eileen was taking rest from what she had been doing for most of the day; paper work. The last few days in London were a good opportunity for her to check and revise various documents connected with the Griffin Company. Many thought opening a new factory in Germany was a bold and very risky move, but it seemed that, at least for now the financial reports proved the venomous tongues wrong. In fact, the present state of the market even allowed possibility of expanding the industry in France and Belgium. Eileen, of course, considered some problems with the silk and cotton delivery from China, so she had spent the last evening writing a letter to the Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce and the Queen to grant her escort of the merchant ships. A bit security never hurt anyone. After a quick spelling and grammar check earlier this morning, she had sealed the letter and asked Michael to send it. She felt like she could finally breathe freely again, like there had been someone pressing against her chest before. Maybe, she considered, she was stressing too much about this. Maybe she should delegate more – but then again, she didn't trust anyone but herself to do the paperwork well. She wasn't a very trusting person, and who could blame her. She had enough reasons not to be.

The weather fortunately allowed her to spend the day outside and get some much-needed fresh air without ending up feeling much like a drowned cat. It was one of those wonderful days when the rainy autumn falls back and the warm summer returns, even if only for a few hours. The sun shone high in the sky and its beams illuminated the golden autumn leaves of the trees. Birds' song was to be heard somewhere in the woods - a wistful reminder of the lost summer days.

Eileen was sitting in the garden, having brunch – tea and biscuits, the first 'meal' she had in days. It tasted like heaven after this stressful period of basically starving herself of almost everything aside from coffee. Vast plantations of roses, cala-lilies, marigolds and peonies surrounded the young Duchess, though they couldn't compare to variety of the flowers back in the gardens of her mansion in Devonshire. Still the beautiful representatives of the local flora were amazingly arranged, creating a relaxing atmosphere with their aroma and complimenting colours. Too bad that at that time of the year they had already closed their blossoms, but they made a beautiful picture even though not in their full glory. However, the flowers could have been in full bloom, Eileen most probably would have noticed neither their beauty nor their unique fragrance. She had created an unbreakable glass wall around her, and she was cut off from any perceptions of the outside world.

She read today's newspaper while drinking her tea, not quite interested, more out of a dull sense of professional interest than anything else. The large title of the article on the front page had caught her glassy gaze. It was called _"Mysterious mass murder in East London"_.

"_27__th__ October_

_ Mysterious mass murder occurred in the East District of London. The crime took place in the local pub "King of Spades", more known as "The Pit". The policemen found 11 victims in total - 10 customers and the barkeeper. All of the victims had criminal records. A small gun lay near one of the bodies. "Most likely we are the witnesses of the result of drunkard's quarrels, which have ended tragically for all present." comments Geoffrey Black, Chief Inspector of the local Scotland Yard department. "The case is simple and obvious to me and I can assure you, it will be closed very soon." The police had also found an empty basement below the pub, which was used for unknown purposes..."_

"That took them a while…" thought Eileen, whilst she put the newspaper aside and sighed deeply, as if disappointed. She took another sip from her tea.

"Excuse me for the interruption, my lady." a clear voice said. The Duchess slowly turned her head towards it, blinking against the sun.

"Michael, you came back already? You were faster than I though." she stood up. The pleats of her dark purple dress fell down heavily. As usual she had ribbon tied around her neck, partially hidden by her long hair. "Come with me. I need you to help me with the some papers…" she trailed of, not at all looking forward to the piles of paperwork yet to come.

"You have guest, milady." said Michael, slightly smiling when the Duchess sent him a mistrustful look.

"A guest! I don't remember any scheduled audiences for today. Who…"

Before Eileen could finish her sentence she saw the silhouette of a man standing behind Michael. The figure moved and passed by the butler. He was a young, good-looking man, apparently noble. That last fact was, of course not to be seen by just looking at his face; the man obviously dressed to be recognized as an aristocrat, with his oddly overdressed chic beige suit, apparently tailored to fit his figure perfectly.

"Eileen!" said he smiling.

"Henry…" finally Eileen said, and the spasm her mouth made could hardly be described as a genuine warm smile.

Henry Carpenter, or more correctly, Sir Henry Carpenter was the son of Baron Carpenter, Lord of Kent, an outstanding entrepreneur trading in wool and flax. Baron Carpenter and Duke Griffin had been working together for very long time, developing a strong bond between the two families. Henry and Eileen had known each other since childhood and had become very good friends. Even they almost got engaged twice, but their engagement failed because of the murder of Eileen's parents and sister. Since then the Duchess was constantly occupied with her family affairs, refusing each new proposal.

He hugged Eileen tightly and even he lifted her a bit, and had the gut to spin her around in his arms. He put her back on the ground, and got a speechless stare at the kindly smiling arrival in return. Michael chuckled to himself. He had never seen the Duchess with such surprised face. It was almost unnatural for her. And the young gentlemen- well, he seemed to be Eileen's complete opposite. He was energetic and cheerful, two qualities inherent of youth. What a strange couple.

"So you didn't loose your ability to speak…did you?" he inquired laughingly. "Long time no see, dearest Duchess."

"Michael, bring us some tea, please." said Eileen. She had already shaken off her earlier amazement and her voice sounded imperative. (Henry chuckled a bit at her dictatorial tone) Michael obeyed the order and went back into the house. "Henry, do take a seat. I have not seen you for quite a long while. Where have you been all this time?"

"First of all, I'm sorry I couldn't attend the event you've organized, Eileen. I got the invitation, but I had to travel to Italy. We're arranging an agreement between our Export Company and a local Texture Factory. It was an important deal, so I had to be present. Though it would have been much more interesting to come to your gathering of course, don't you think so? The Italians have no sense of humor, and you know it."

"Judging the customer by his sense of humor – how very much like your father! You haven't changed a bit, dear Baron!"

"After all I have to be a worthy son of my father, no? And besides you also follow Duke Griffin's path – the new factory in Germany, a typical well-measured risk, Duchess! I congratulate you on your great success!" He hopped off the chair and bowed clumsily to the Eileen.

"And that bow ruined everything." said Eileen laughing. "And I thought you would have abandoned the clown's role by now. It seems I was wrong."

"That would be too out of the character, Eileen!" answered Henry with a smile. "You know me; I've been like that since we were children. It's always been a pleasure for me to make the others smile. Right, Leenie?"

"Yes, that's how it used to be." said Eileen. "The three of us used to run around in the garden, playing tag or childish role-plays, ruining flowerbeds along the way. Do you remember how you messed up my hair every time or how I painted your face in order to make you look like one of mine or Kathrin's dolls?" Eileen sighed. Her slight smile disappeared from her face. Her empty gaze was thoughtful, almost dreamy like. "We lived in a parallel dimension, completely different from the real world, without problems and fears. And now all that is left is the precious memory for those times."

"Yes, life has proved his cruelty many times, over and over again but it's human nature to endure the trials of fate." The Duchess remained silent to his words. Henry felt that this subject wasn't appropriate for their conversation and hurried to change it. "Anyhow, how are you Eileen? What have you been doing recently? You haven't visited London for some time, and when I heard you were here I rushed to come over and see you."

"I am fine, thank you." answered she simply. "I am currently occupied with the latest financial reports of Griffin Company. The Factory in Germany was the right move after all." she smiled slightly. Henry looked at her with his deep green eyes. The Duchess' beautiful pale face was tenderly illuminated by the sun and her glassy eyes looked like sparkling crystal marbles. And behind her kind smile he saw sadness.

"Leenie? Are you sure you're alright?" asked he.

"What do you mean?" She threw him a confused look.

"What has happened to you Eileen? You avoid social activities, you rarely visit your house here, and you prefer staying alone in Devonshire. You even don't write me letters anymore! Have you completely forgotten about me? Where did that young joyful girl I used to know go?" He stroked her cheek gently. She turned aside as a little, shy girl.

"Henry, I…" Eileen had obviously not expected such a lecture. She rested her head on her hand. "Henry, as my closest friend I need you to understand me, because I have always been an open book to you. I just feel like being alone for a while. I have grown tired of this pompous parade of vanity. I prefer to be alone."

The Duchess looked straight into his eyes with her empty gaze. And through her glassy eyes the Baron felt the pain and the sorrow, deeply hidden in that woman's soul. He took gently her hand.

"Eileen, I'm your friend and I want to help you. You're very special person to me and I'm really worried about you." With every word he squeezed her hand more and more until his knuckles turned as white as hers. Eileen noticed a strange spark in his eyes, something she had never seen before – he stared at her as if he was condemned to death and she was his only salvation. "If you let me, I'm ready to spend my lifetime with you in and I'll share your sorrows and…"

"Do not continue further, Baron Carpenter!" Eileen interrupted with her cold voice. She pulled her hand from his grip. Something like an invisible barrier arose between them. "If you really cherish our friendship, you will not even _think_ about to this topic ever again! I have already given you my answer. My decision is not a subject of discussion. It was an answer, not a question, and a definitive one at that!"

Henry didn't expect such a harsh judgment. The woman in front of him was different from the one he spoke to moments ago – she was cold, emotionless, with a piercing icy gaze - just like a beautiful, icy statue.

Michael came back with the tea. The tea was served in fabulous tea cups of white Chinese porcelain with edges of gold. The butler bowed and stepped back, waiting for further orders.

"Dear Baron." continued Eileen. "Is there another purpose of your sudden visit?"

"Err…Actually, yes, there is. I came to deliver you the list of materials for your factories here in England, Duchess. And some new offers from our company, of course." He automatically handed her the papers. Obviously he was still dashed by Eileen's answer. "Now if you excuse me, Duchess, I shall take my leave. I have important business in London, I must attend it immediately."

"Of course. I shall escort you to your carriage. Michael, please prepare the carriage for Baron Carpenter."

"As you wish, my lady." Michael bowed and disappeared with a quick pace.

As they reached the entrance staircase, the carriage was already waiting for the Baron. Henry turned around and kissed Eileen's hand.

"It was pleasure to meet you again, Duchess"

"Henry, please don't think too much of what I said. I do value our friendship and I do not want to destroy it with ill-judged actions." She smiled gently. And her smile seemed to be real! It was the first time for many months she smiled so kindly at another living being, but the invisible barrier between them was still there.

"No, forgive me, Eileen. It was I who crossed the line, a line well marked I may add. I'll visit you soon. Until then!" Henry turned to the butler. "And you take good care of her, Michael!"

"Most certainly, Sir." Michael bowed. "After all it's my duty as the butler of the Griffin family!" he replied with a smile.

Henry turned around and got in the carriage. As the door shut, Eileen's face changed – she wasn't smiling anymore. She traced the carriage with her empty gaze until it completely disappeared in the distance; then she turned and headed back to the house. Michael observed her for a while, smiled slightly, then followed her and they disappeared behind the solid wooden entrance door.

The last sun beams illuminated the hills like an imposing fire crown. She held a crystal glass, filled with wine and watched the spectacular sunset from the window in the study with her empty gaze. She was silent, obviously lost in her thoughts. She took a slow sip.

He was also in the study, cleaning up the mess on her desk by putting away the documents in the bookcase. All of a sudden the silence was broken by the sound of breaking glass – and he and turned towards it.

Sparkling pieces of broken glass sparkled on the floor in the last light of the setting sun. She had lifted her left hand, showing no signs of pain as watched as the small crimson red drops fill her cupped hand.

He whipped out his white handkerchief from the pocket of his tailcoat and walked towards her.

"May I?" he said and tenderly took her delicate palm as if she was a helpless child.

He quickly examined the wound. Her small hand was painted by the color of the red liquid, which slowly oozed down her fingers. A temptation he couldn't resist. He brought her palm near to his lips and drunk from her blood. She didn't even shiver – she stayed emotionless as always, observing him with her empty glassy eyes.

"I have always been astonished by your feeding habits." said she with her cold voice.

"This is my nature." he answered with a cunning smile when he moved his lips away from her hand. He bandaged the wound with his handkerchief. Still smiling he put his hand on her chest. He felt the steady beats of her heart. "But more importantly…Do I feel a crack in this icy heart of yours?"

She looked at him straight into his red-glowing eyes and remained silent for a while.

"There is no heart behind this chest." She answered. "This body is nothing but an empty shell covering a pitch black void of lost memories and broken dreams. The heart you are speaking of vanished long time ago, turning me into emotionless resemblance of a human being."

He continued smiling.

"I'll bring you some more bandages for your injury, Mistress." he said and then left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

"This is an absolute nonsense, Kingsley! Madness! You don't know what you are doing!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm with my mind, Chief Inspector! You won't shake my decision!"

The young Detective ran up the marble staircase of the Griffin Manson. O'Connor tried to follow him, but he just couldn't keep up with his pace – Kingsley was youthful and energetic, and the Chief Inspector's age already gave its verdict on the fifth or sixth step. Breathing heavily, he finally caught up with him as Kingsley insistently was knocking on the large oak door.

"Kingsley, you're way too impulsive. You can't just… "

Kingsley interrupted him immediately.

"As I said I'm deeply convinced, that I'm doing the right thing. With all my respect, Chief Inspector, but your words cannot dissuade me!"

O'Connor sighed.

"Young man, I acknowledge your talent and sense of justice, but you've got to learn to behave! With such temper the only thing you'll achieve is the early end of your carrier."

"I'm certain of what I do, Chief O'Connor, Sir. Please, trust me and you'll see." Kingsley looked the Chief Inspector in his eyes. And there O'Connor saw the deep confidence and firmness of the young Detective - the qualities of the good professional. Indeed in front this stubborn and capable boy there was a splendid carrier, waiting for him. But still O'Connor couldn't trust his estimate fully. Though Kingsley's good investigator's qualities, the Chief Inspector was disturbed by the fact that the Detective didn't have enough experience in the field.

And while O'Connor was occupied with his own thoughts, the tall doors of the mansion opened.

"Chief Inspector O'Connor? Detective Kingsley?" a questioning voice said.

O'Connor startled and turned towards the voice. Just like at their last visit, he faced the same good-looking man, dressed in black tailcoat and white gloves. His slightly reddish eyes threw a surprised look at the Chief Inspector.

"It's been a while since our last meet, Michael! Excuse us for our sudden visit but we…"

"We would like to speak with the Duchess if it's possible. Right now." Kingsley finished the sentence. The butler moved his confused gaze on him and stared at him for few moments. Suddenly Michael's surprised look changed and it was replaced by a bright, charming smile. He bowed to the two men and with a gallant move asked them to enter the house:

"Please, come in, gentlemen and follow me." he said still smiling. Kingsley felt a bit perplexed by this quick change of the moods and a bit ashamed by his own persistence, but quickly he shook off his embarrassment.

With a quicken pace the two men went after the butler. Again they passed through entrance hall, the ball room and the dinning room. The Detective took a quick look around the premises. This time some of the decorations were changed – the brown, gold and orange colours were dominant; to suit the season maybe, but once again he was dazzled by the beautiful interior of the Griffin Mansion.

Finally they reached the door of the tea room. Michael knocked once, then lightly pushed down the door handle and opened the door without a sound – as if he wasn't a man, but a ghost. They entered the room. Because of the large windows, the premise was brilliantly lit up and Kingsley had to half-close his eyes. Still he noticed a figure near one of the windows. As he got used to the light he saw the Duchess sitting in a big arm chair, reading a book. Kingsley was stunned by her natural beauty. She was wearing a refined brown dress, decorated with golden swirls and a black ribbon was tied around her neck. An elegant hair-slide, made of silver and amber, had put her long black hair in a ponytail. Her tender, pale skin reflected the light from the window, creating mysterious glow around the Duchess' silhouette and her beautiful glassy eyes shone like precious diamonds.

Eileen wasn't aware of their presence yet - she seemed to be lost in the action of the book. Michael broke the silence.

"Excuse me for the interruption, my lady, but you have visitors."

Eileen startled and turned to Michael. As she saw the Chief Inspector and the Detective, she stood up.

"Chief Inspector O'Connor? Detective Kingsley?" she said. Surprise was written on her face. "What...Oh, pardon me, where are my manners…Please, do take a seat." The two policemen bowed to the Duchess and sat on the couch across from Eileen's arm-chair. "Michael, could you bring us some tea, please…"

Michael obeyed the Duchess's order and left the room. Eileen sat back in her arm-chair.

"So, Chief Inspector O'Connor, what brings you here? Has something… unexpected happened?" asked she. Kingsley felt some tag of hope in her seemingly calm voice.

"Excuse us for our sudden visit, Lady Eileen." started O'Connor We should have informed you earlier, but …"

"But I requested this audience with you, my lady." interrupted Kingsley. Eileen's glassy gaze fell on him. The surprise on her face from earlier had already vanished and it was replaced by her usual expressionless look. "I would like to discuss some things with you and when I heard, of your return in Devonshire, I insisted to meet you."

"By the way you speak I understand, that you have important things to discuss with me, am I not right, Detective?" the Duchess answered.

"Utterly important, Duchess."

"Should I assume that you have some progress?" she continued. Chief Inspector O'Connor shivered. Eileen perceived his uneasiness, but said nothing.

"It depends on what you will answer, my lady. I do have some theories, but I need your answers to confirm or deny them." said Kingsley. His voice was full of confidence.

"Very well then. I'm ready to hear your questions Detective." answered Eileen. She crossed her hands.

In this tense moment Michael entered. The butler served Black tea in magnificent cups, made of Japanese fishbone porcelain. He stepped few steps away behind the Duchess, waiting for further orders. O'Connor took a small sip from the tea.

"Mmm…As nosy and strong as always!" he said. "You're wonderful tea-maker, Michael!"

"Thank you, Chief Inspector! After all that's my duty as the butler of the Griffin family" answered Michael with a smile.

Kingsley took his cup. The Detective obviously wanted to say something, but it seemed that the presence of the butler troubled him. The Duchess noticed that.

"Let Michael's presence not bother you, Detective Kingsley. He is a loyal servant of mine and he is the only one, whom I trust. You can speak freely in front of him. I'm sure he's as concerned about the murderer of my sister as I am." Hardly visible grin appeared on Michael's face.

Kingsley sighed with relief and continued:

"As you already figured out, my lady, I would like to ask you few questions. They're about the night, your sister was assassinated."

Eileen fixed her empty gaze on the Detective. He saw a spark that flashed behind her glassy eyes – a single spark, which burned his soul as if it was a roaring fire. Suddenly he felt discomfort, but he had to continue this research.

"At the beginning of this investigation, I promised to cooperate fully, but may I ask you, Detective Kingsley, why do you need to interrogate me again? The police took my testimony back then." The Duchess' voice was calm, but Kingsley knew that behind those monotonous words were hidden deep pain and grief. He felt even more embarrassed than before.

"I comprehend it's hard for you, Duchess. I know it's a painful memory, but your answers will help me solving this mystery."

Eileen took a sip from her tea. She put the cup away and looked through the window. Michael observed them from behind – it was such amusement for him. The butler was aware not only of the great talent of the young Detective, but also of his lack of experience. He sensed the struggle between confidence and hesitation in Kingsley's mind. And he wasn't the only one to notice that. Michael's eyes moved on the Chief Inspector. He perceived the anxiety of the old man, who obviously was displeased at his colleague's actions. And the Duchess… Well, she behaved as she always did – she showed no emotions, no weaknesses. She had hid herself behind this icy mask of hers, preserving her from the outer world. Her only perception to the outside was her beautiful, glassy gaze, which could peer into one's soul.

Eileen sighed and turned back at the policemen.

"Please, my lady, excuse my younger colleague's improper behavior." interrupted O'Connor. "If you wish to postpone this conversation, we'll leave immediately!"

"You've already come all this way, Chief Inspector." answered Eileen. "It would be rude of me to send you away. Besides this conversation will have to be held and no matter when and where, it'll be a hard subject to discuss. And since we've already started this discussion, I prefer to bring it to an end now. But just before you continue, Detective Kingsley, could you be more specific about the reasons to question me again?"

"Of course. When I arrived here to investigate this case, my first task was to check all of the collected evidences from that night. I read all of the testimonies and I found some…discrepancies that I want to discuss with you now, my lady. Was I specific enough about my motives?" Eileen nodded slightly and Kingsley continued: "And now to the questions. Where were you on the day of the murder?" The Detective took out a small notebook and a writing kit – feather and a small ink- pot.

"I was coming back from London. I had attended a meeting with the Director and the Financial Advisor of the local Griffin Factory – Mister Alexander Bowman."

The Detective wrote something in his notebook.

"You arrived at the mansion after sunset, right? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you arrived?"

"I did. The house was dark - by nightfall the candelabras in the entrance and the main hall are already lit up."

"Then, as it's said in the report, you ordered your coachman immediately to contact the police and entered the house on your own. Don't you think it was risky to be left alone? You didn't know, what was going on."

"What would you do in my place, Detective?" replied the Duchess. There was a strain of anger in her voice. Michael smiled slightly. "Kathrin, Archibald and the rest of the staff were my priority back then, my own security wasn't important at all!"

Kingsley said nothing and again wrote something in his notebook. He continued with confidence:

"According to your testimony you were attacked few moments after you found the bodies of your sister and former butler in you sister's playroom. You said you couldn't describe your attacker, because he dragged you in the shadows. He inflicted multitude wounds on your body but still he didn't kill you. Why?"

"You expect from me the answer of such a question? How could I possibly know? I guess he was ordered to do so." Eileen obviously wasn't prepared for such question. She moved her empty gaze off the Detective for a while. "Maybe the one, who ordered the assassination of my sister didn't want me to die physically, but mentally by taking away my dearest people. And I have to admit he achieved his goal." The young woman looked straight into Kingsley's eyes. He was pinned to the couch by those tired, empty eyes – as if they belong to some else, someone much older than the Duchess.

The Detective pulled quickly himself together and continued.

"And what about the knife you were holding when you were found? Where did you get the knife?" asked insistently the Detective. O'Connor turned sharply to the young man with bewilderment. Eileen stared at Kingsley with suspicion.

"What do you try to achieve with those questions of yours?" the Duchess said with her cold voice.

"Nothing, I'm just checking my theory…" Kingsley obviously tried to not to lose his self-control.

"Are you saying that I murdered my sister? With my own hands on top of that!" Eileen fixed her icy glare on the Detective; she squeezed her right hand, until the knuckles of her left turned white.

"Well, I was just verifying your alibi. I…I mean you could be also a suspect, Duchess – you do have a motive - the family fortune…It was divided under the two heirs of Duke and Duchess Griffin and…" Kingsley began to stammer.

O'Connor jumped off his seat, trying to calm the strained atmosphere:

"Duchess! Please, don't mind his rudeness! He was trying to check the facts and…"

Lady Eileen remained silent for few moments, gazing at the gardens. Michael was eager to see her reaction to such an insult. She appeared to be calm as usual, but he knew that inside her soul boiled with anger. Soon her wrath would burst out like a blazing fire, destroying everything in its path. No, no, no, it wasn't like she would show any emotion written on her face, any expression that would reveal a small part of her inner world. No, the Duchess would do it like she always did – with a single word, with a single glance.

Still observing through the window, she finally spoke with her calm, yet cold voice:

"Seven years ago on an autumn day like this one I lost my dearly beloved parents. Since that day I became Duchess Eileen Griffin, Landlord of Devonshire; owner of 70% of the Griffin Company as the firstborn child. Mister Archibald Montgomery, or as you called him my "former butler", was like a second father to us – ever attentive and considerate. He led me in this cruel world of power and influence and taught me how to know good from evil, in order to preserve my family's honor and good name." Eileen looked at Kingsley with her beautiful empty gaze. Those piercing eyes…The Detective found himself watching in a pitch black void – only single glimpses of painful memories flashed in front of him. The Duchess continued. "But above all those riches, my parents left me their most precious thing – my little sister Kathrin. I valued her life more than my own and I vowed on their grave to protect her from this ill-ordered world at all costs. But I failed… Many times over I wished myself our places to be exchanged. We, the nobles, also have feelings, Detective Kingsley, and we know what it means to lose your most dear creatures. Kathrin was my only family left, my only reason to smile again. And now she's gone." Eileen stood up. Like hypnotized Kingsley copied her move. "I asked you, Detective, to find the ones, who are responsible for Kathrin's death. You failed. And because of the need of suspects with solid motives for such crime, you accused me of murdering my own sister, even though you knew I would never do anything to harm her. On top of that you dare to come into my house and charge me with such felony. I find your impropriate behavior and the lack of experience very disturbing – it leads you to rash conclusions. The next time you make such accusations against me, I'll ask you to call me in the local police department and only with solid evidences for my guilt. Until then, I'll ask you to contact me only via letters. And now I ask you to leave my home immediately."

The Duchess finally moved away her glassy eyes – this was her final judgment. The young Detective was dashed by Eileen's words. He felt ashamed from his inconsiderate action. He wanted to apologize, but his lips couldn't find enough words. O'Connor stared at the young man with disapproval. His behavior had just ruined the good relationship between the police and the Landlord of Devonshire.

"Lady Eileen, please reconsider your decision, I'm sure the Detective didn't wanted to offend you with his research!"

"With all my respect, Chief Inspector. My decision is absolute. Now please, leave! Michael will escort you."

O'Connor nodded with comprehension and bowed. Then he gave sign to Kingsley to follow him and escorted by the butler they left the room.

"What I did was foolish, was it not" said Kingsley as he entered the carriage.

"I warned you, young man. Such ill-judgments of yours could endanger the whole case! You just lost the trust of the Duchess and she's our only witness!" O'Connor took a deep breath. "But she's right about one thing - this investigation continued for far too long. It seems we're missing something. When we get back to the police department I want you to re-check the alibis of all the suspects, you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Michael observed the carriage for a while. A thin, smug smile appeared on his face - after all the conversation in the tea room went just as he assumed.

"Humans and their predictable nature…" mumbled he to himself the disappeared back in the mansion.

It was dark, cold night. He was crossing the corridors of the mansion with silver candelabra in his hand; just one of his routine duties before he retires in his room. A butler's job sure is hard – you get up early, you go to sleep late; the whole management of the household lies on your shoulders along with the master's fancies. But at the end the price from playing this ridiculous theatre was really worth it.

He passed by the tea room and he noticed faint light under the door. He pushed the door handle and entered the premise.

Her elegant figure was delineated against the window. Her pale skin showed through her silk night-gown, adding strange, almost ghostly-like glow around her. Her black hair covered her shoulders, hiding the pentagram formed mark on her swan-like neck. She had leaned on the window's frame and had crossed her arms. Her glassy eyes were fixed on the family's portrait on the wall.

"My lady?" he gave her a puzzled look. She moved away her eyes from the picture and stared at him with her empty gaze for few moments. Then she continued watching the painted images on the wall. She looked tired. He sighed and put the candelabra on the table. "Having nightmares again?"

She turned to him.

"Again? No… Always. After all I'm living in one." She looked outside. Silver mist was covering the gardens; heavy clouds were hiding the moon under their dark cloaks. "It looks like a storm is coming."

He said nothing, just observed her for a while with his reddish eyes. She continued staring at the night view outside. She pretended to ignore him completely, but he knew that his presence disturbed her even though she didn't show it.

"Let me escort you to your room, Mistress. It's late." said he finally and took the candelabra.

She obeyed and moved away from the window. As she passed by him, she stopped and faced him with her empty eyes. They remained so for few seconds.

"I've always wanted to ask you one simple question." started she with her cold voice. He looked at her with surprise. She continued. "You could have ended this nonsense before it even started, but you preferred to be put on a leash instead. Why?"

He smiled evilly and leaned a bit forward, but close enough for her to see the red glow in his eyes.

"Well, you know what they say, Mistress." he answered. "If you're hungry, the extent of the hunger makes the taste of the meal sweeter."

A thin smile appeared on her face.

"How very much like you." she said simply; then left the room. The butler followed her with the candelabra in his hand, closing the door behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII.**

Fresh, moist air filled the forest. The tree crowns were painted in the flaming colours of the autumn – a rich palette of brown, red and gold mottled every single leaf. The forest's thick, damp green verdure floor was almost invisible under a layer of morning mist. Though the sun was hiding behind fluffy grey clouds, the weather did not show any signs of becoming worse anytime soon, and allowed a relaxing outing in the open.

A sudden crackle and the howl of hounds disturbed the pleasant harmony under the woods' arch. The frightened cawing of the birds was drowned by the sound of many galloping hoofs. A small riding party of four horsemen led by pack of fierce black hunting dogs arose under the tree shadows. One of the silhouettes, however, differed from the others. Apparently it was of short stature, and on her side the figure of a tall man could be seen. He was dressed in a black tailcoat, his hands hidden under white gloves, and carried something staff-like in his hand. His slightly reddish eyes could be noticed even from distance. The entire hunting company moved along on the forest path in a steady pace until one of the dogs suddenly didn't follow the road any longer and disappeared into the thick bushes. The party stopped abruptly.

"Excuse my frankness, but I think you were hasty back there, Monsieur Bernard. It is difficult for the dogs to track down the scent in the woods." a mild voice said. Though the riding gown's components were simple beige trousers, dark-brown jacket, black leather high boots and gloves, she was obviously a woman. Her black hair was hidden under a small top-hat, decorated with flowers. A black ribbon was tied around her delicate neck. Her beautiful glassy gaze was set on the man on her left.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Eileen, I know I rushed, but you see I haven't had so much fun in months. Always working, working…"

"Now, now Alphonse, you sound like the workaholic that you most certainly aren't." laughed one of the horsemen.

"Please, Marquise LeVan, we all know that you and Monsieur Bernard are serious entrepreneurs, who work hard for the success of their undertaking. Don't we Mister Bowman?" said Eileen.

"Most certainly, my lady." nodded Bowman.

"We highly appreciate your kindness and hospitality, Duchess. Thank you for your invitation." answered Marquise LeVan. He bowed and kissed her hand.

"It's a pleasure." A barely visible smile appeared on Eileen's face. "Now, shall we continue our ride? We are near the open area already."

"Of course, of course!" said Monsieur Bernard with excitement. He looked quite a bit like a small boy thrilled by a new toy. As the party set off, he added with a smile. "I'm sure, that at the end of this lovely day all of us shall feel relaxed."

Ah, yes, relaxation. Time to think. This is what Eileen needed the most after the unpleasant visit (as she would probably define it) of Chief Inspector O'Connor and Detective Kingsley one week ago. Though the dozen apologetic letters from the Chief Inspector, she couldn't deny that she was disturbed at first. If such an accusation was to be made in public, it would interfere with her plans; and that was the last thing she wanted. Hopefully this was not the case. Otherwise she wouldn't be spending one of the few rest days she had, riding with her Financial Advisor and two French aristocrats. Well, in fact it of course wasn't a rest day for the Duchess at all, but a well-thought out strategic move.

Marquise Louie LaVan and Monsieur Alphonse Bernard were the owners of the "LaVan&Bernard" Factory, which occupied itself with the production of high-quality weaving machines. Since their export to foreign countries was very limited, Eileen wanted to assure they would sign the contract she'd readied for them. That was why she invited them to England to conclude the negotiations in person. And this friendly hunting trip would guarantee the successful finalizing of the bargain. As far the Duchess' financial advisor, Mister Alexander Bowman was concerned – well, because of his vast knowledge in history and geography he played the role of a guide for the two French nobles during their stay in England.

The small group moved slowly under the many-coloured canopy of intertwined leaves and branches. Suddenly the arch-shaped canopy disappeared and in front of them there was a vast, completely flat field, lined with trees on all sides. The open area was actually a ring-shaped green glade in the middle of the forest, where the game usually came out at feed.

"Ah, mon dieu! Pardon, my surprise, Lady Eileen, but we never expected your mansion to be so tremendous. Does the whole forest belong to your family?" asked Monsieur Bernard with bewilderment.

"That is correct, Monsieur Bernard." nodded the Duchess. "But I wouldn't say that the Griffin family is owner of the forest; to the local population is granted free access. These woods have been entrusted to us to guard them and keep the poachers away."

"Oh, I see." said the Marquise. "Mister Bowman, as our guide could you tell us, what kind of game is usual for this region?"

"You caught me off guard here, dear Marquise" laughed Bowman. "I'm more acquainted with the local flora than with the local fauna. Duchess, maybe they should direct their question to Michael. As your butler, I'm sure he knows the answer."

Eileen looked at the butler with her glassy eyes and slightly nodded to him. He smiled and bowed to the guests.

"As Devonshire is located in the South-West of England," started he, "mixed broadleaf forests are typical for the region. They're natural habitat for various birds and animals – partridges, pheasants, quails, does, wolfs, wild boars, bears. Since it's the end of the season, I guess that most likely we'll encounter partridges and quails. Deer and wolves avoid open areas during the day; they usually appear at nightfall and as far as bears go - they are already hibernating. "

"Where did you find such an intelligent and well-behaved young man, dear Duchess? Do all butlers in England come with such refined manners? If that's the case, I'll surely hire one for my manor in Paris!" said LaVan with enthusiasm. "Tell me, garçon, how come you know so much?"

"As a servant of the Duchess it's only natural for me to know not only the history of the mansion, but also the smallest details about its location. It's my duty as the butler of the Griffin family after all." Michael answered with a kind smile.

In that moment something rustled in the grass. A small brown bird with ochre strokes of colour on its back appeared in front of them. It quickly took a look around; then it slipped back in the tall grass.

"Did you see that, Louie?" Bernard almost jumped off his saddle. "It was a quail! There must be more hiding in the grass!"

"Alphonse, don't get so excited! You'll scare them with your shouting." laughed LaVan. "I suggest the hunt to begin. Of course with milady's permission."

Eileen smiled and raised her hand. With a quiet whistle she drew the attention of the dogs to her; then she pointed to the field. It was the command they were waiting for. With howls and barks the hunting hounds jumped in the tall grass; only their tails could be seen on the surface. Soon coveys of quails and partridges flew off the plain like dark clouds. The first gunshots arrived almost at the same time as the first group of birds.

"It's simply marvelous, isn't it Louie? I don't remember having so much fun for a long time!" said Bernard.

"Stay focused, Alphonse, or you'll shoot one of us by mistake!"

Without being noticed the Duchess had gone back with few steps. She preferred not to take part in this ridiculous performance; she simply watched it with her glassy gaze from behind. Her empty eyes observed the silhouettes in front of her and yet she didn't see anything – they were but moving shadows to her. Nevertheless her strategy had already achieved its goal; Eileen didn't have to worry about the French fools anymore. She had more important worries on her mind. She needed peace and silence in order to focus on her problems, but her wish seemed to be unaffordable for the time being. A voice startled her.

"Lady Eileen? Are you alright? You seemed troubled?"

"Alexander…Yes, I'm fine. I was thinking about the deal about the weaving machines. I hope it's successful."

"Don't worry, my lady, it certainly will be. You've impressed the Marquise and Monsenieur Bernard quite a lot." said Bowman. He stared at Eileen for a while then continued. His voice was low. "Duchess, I had a visit from Detective Kingsley in London two weeks ago." Eileen set her glassy gaze on him. "He was asking questions about the accident with your sister and Mister Montgomery. He insisted to speak with you, but you had already departed to Devonshire. I'm sorry for the question, but what is going on, my lady?"

Eileen took a deep breath.

"The police is continuing the investigation, and they need to check the testimonies of everyone who has been interrogated. It's nothing to worry about, Alexander."

"Monsieur Bowman, won't you join the fun?" called out Bernard. "Duchess Griffin, please join us as well. After all you invited us."

Michael, who during all that time was standing somewhere behind, shot a glance at Eileen. She looked as expressionless as always. But would the Duchess accept such a challenge?

"I'm a poor shooter, Monsieur Bernard, I'd rather pass." said Eileen.

"But please, Duchess!" insisted Marquise LaVan. "You'll greatly disappoint us if you don't try at least!

Eileen remained silent for a moment. It seemed that she had no choice.

"Very well then." said she finally. "Michael, my gun please"

Michael approached her and with a smile handed her the weapon. In return she sent him off with her icy glare. She moved into position good enough to take a clear shot. In that moment a partridge flew off the grass. Eileen took a careful sight at it. The partridge towered above the green glade and headed towards the tree tops. She traced the bird's movement with her glassy eyes. Then she pulled the trigger. The small black dot fell from the sky somewhere in the woods. At that the barking the dogs went in the same direction.

"An outstanding shot, ma chère!" LaVan cried out.

"And you said you're a poor shooter! Nonsense!" added Bernard. "Honestly for a moment I thought you would lose, but you surprised me with your excellent shooting skills!"

"I'd say it's just beginner's luck" answered Eileen demurely. She shot Michael quick, triumphant look. He simply smiled at her, but she also noticed the red glow in his eyes. She continued. "If you excuse me, gentlemen, but I'd like to take my trophy myself. Michael, take care of our guests"

The butler nodded slightly.

"Of course, my lady, we'll wait for you here."

The Duchess set her spurs into her stead and followed the dogs. Slowly she drifted away from the hunting party. Suddenly a huge solid green wall made of imposing tall trees appeared in front of her. Eileen entered the forest without hesitation. The tree crowns created a thick canopy, which stopped the light from the outside world from penetrating. When Eileen had gone deep enough in the forest, she turned back. She couldn't see any of her companions anymore. She sighed with relief. This was the moment she was longing for – to be completely alone. At the same time she knew it couldn't last for too long. There was murmuring water somewhere near. The Duchess gave her horse a pat and they moved on. The dried up branches cracked under the horse's hoofs.

A dog's bark drew her attention. Eileen turned her horse towards the howl. The sound of purling water also grew louder and louder. She came across three of her hunting dogs sniffing around the bank of a small stream. Eileen got off the steed and looked around. She noticed the dead bird, which was lying around five feet away from the stream's bank. The Duchess approached it slowly; then stopped. Her empty, cold eyes observed the lifeless body of the small animal for a while. A strange feeling arose inside her – she knew she had witnessed this very same scene before, but when? Eileen kneeled near the bird and reached out to take it, but her hand pulled back by itself. The Duchess woke up from her trance and stood up. She sent one last look at the bird; then headed back to her horse.

All at once the dogs grew uneasy and started barking again. The Duchess turned around to see what was causing them distress, only to see them running away howling. She stopped and looked around. A strange noise came from the nearby bushes. Eileen saw the gloved hand that grabbed her arm from behind from the corner of her eye before she felt it. Someone spun her around and pressed her closely against him. In the next moment she found herself in the arms of the red-eyed man who wore a black tailcoat and white gloves.

"Michael, what on earth are you…"

A sparkle in the other hand of the butler caught her attention. Michael was holding a yellow-feathered arrow in his right hand. There as a black rose and a letter attached to it.

"Is he here? Can you find him?" asked she him calmly.

"No. It seems that the one who attacked has already gotten away. He has obviously hidden his tracks and scent too. I can't sense any presence." answered Michael. "Excuse my self-willed actions, my lady. I disobeyed your order." The butler freed her from his grip and handed her the arrow. He added with a smile. "But I just couldn't let anything harmful happen to you."

Eileen just pierced him with her icy glare and said nothing. She examined the arrow and the rose quickly; then tore the letter open. It contained a ticket for the play "Othello", which was going to be held 2 weeks from now.

"It seems we've drawn his attention." said Eileen after she put away the ticket. She gave the arrow and the letter to Michael. "Put these carefully under my saddle. We should go back. Though he has escaped, he might be still in the area and he's endangering my guests as well. Besides they'll get suspicious because of my long absence."

Her cold and voice sounded imperative as always. Michael bowed. He looked at the dead partridge.

"What about your trophy, my lady?" asked he.

The Duchess turned back. She set her glassy gaze on the bird then looked at him. Obviously he wanted to see her reaction.

"Leave it be. I won't take it." said she and went back to her horse.

He nodded and with a smiled followed her.

The vibrating candle light illuminated the large premise. The walls were covered with enormous shelves, filled with various books – some were old and rusty, while others looked like recently bought ones. Few of the shelves were closed with exquisite crystal glass-cases. Heavy red curtains covered the arch-shaped windows. She was sitting on the desk in the middle of the room with a pile of books in front of her. She was taking a rest for a while. Since she had come back from the hunt, she had locked herself in the library, without even changing her clothes (except for the ridiculous flower-decorated top-hat). She had abandoned all type of work for today; apparently she had something important on her mind. She threw a vacant look on the book. Her glassy eyes read few lines, before they move away again. It was one of her mother's books about the various types of flowers and the way of their breeding. Her mother loved flowers and used to be occupied with gardening in her spare time. How strange…These days seemed to be so distant that she wondered whether they were reality or not. She rested her head on her hand and sighed.

The door handle went down and he entered quietly in. He was pushing a small table with castors. An exotic dish was placed on the table.

"I brought you your dinner, my lady. I thought you might be hungry" said he. She simply ignored his presence – she was far too occupied with her own thoughts. He took a look on the desk and noticed that the book was opened on an article about the black roses. He smiled slightly. "Is there anything troubling you?"

She slowly moved her empty gaze on him but remained silent. She pulled one of the desk's drawers and took out the yellow-feathered arrow. She placed it on the desk.

"Why did he try to shoot me with an arrow?" asked she. Again she showed no emotion – her face was as expressionless as always, but he could see the deep confusion behind her beautiful, glassy eyes.

"Excuse me, milady, but I think you're jumping into rash conclusions." started he. "I don't believe his goal was to assassinate you, but to deliver you a message."

"This is exactly what I mean." said she with her calm, but at the same time cold voice. She leaned on the arm-chair and turned her head aside. "I was alone out there, totally off-guard. He could have taken me down with one single shot – the weapon of choice doesn't even matter. In other words: he had the perfect opportunity to kill me, for the second time at that. Yet again he didn't. He chose to leave me a message instead. I can't fully understand his motives."

"The answer is pretty simple." he said smiling whilst she slowly turned around to face him. "Obviously you possess something...and he wants, no - he needs you alive in order to get it." He paused and continued in that same seducing voice. "Isn't this your human nature? When you desire something the most, you will go to any lengths to achieve it. Any lengths at all."

She fixed her empty, cold gaze on him. The red glow in his eyes made her shiver – the same unpleasant feeling, she could sense with every cell of her body. Quickly she regained her self-control.

"I guess you have right." said she. She picked the arrow and twiddled it in her hand for a while. "Can you tell me what kind of arrow is that?"

He took the arrow examined it quickly. In few moments he was ready with his conclusion.

"Judging by the arrow's tip and the length of the feathers, I'd say this is a crossbow arrow." He put the arrow on the desk.

"Crossbow arrow? Charming…" said she ironically. "At least I have a solid evidence for my innocence now."

He looked at her with curiosity and then smiled evilly.

"It seems that you've been disturbed by the accusations against you, my lady." said he with sarcasm.

She pierced him with her icy glare. It seems he had found a weak spot of hers.

"Of course I was!" said she. He sensed a tag of anger in her voice. "If such assumptions were made in public they'd cause me troubles. They'll draw too much attention to my name while I prefer to stay in the background." She sighed. "Though I should have expected something like that at some point – knowing the police's incompetence." She took a deep breath and looked around the library. She remained silent for few moments. Then she crossed her hands and continued with her calm voice. "I have a favour to ask you. Or more correctly a task." He observed her with curiosity – she had caught his attention. "I want you to copy some files from the police department. Can you do this for me?"

"As you wish, Mistress." said he smiling and waited for further instructions.


	9. Chapter 9

**XIX.**

Dozen boxes were placed all over the room. Sheets of paper were flying in the air, landing either on the floor, or on the dusty bookshelf, filled with old books. Detective Kingsley was jumping up and down, trying to catch as many of the flying pages as he could. But instead he ended up with hitting his head in the low ceiling. His study in the police department was quite small and now with all those boxes it looked more like a battlefield than like an office of a policeman. Still holding his head, he sat behind the desk. Kingsley pushed aside the boxes in front of him, and looked around. All his work was now gathered in many pasteboard cubes, warped up with cords. What a splendid end of his just beginning career. Since the Chief Inspector was about to send his report to the central administration in London, Kingsley could only expect only one thing - to be called back. That is why he had already packed all his stuff, ready to leave any minute.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." said the Detective.

The door opened only halfway, because it was blocked by one of the boxes.

"Detective Kingsley, Sir. The Chief Inspector is waiting for you in his office. He said it's urgent." a voice behind the door said.

"I'm coming right away." answered Kingsley.

He stood up and took a deep breath, then with nippy bounces he reached the door and wriggled trough it. Kingsley moved with quickened pace through the corridors of the department. It seemed that the final judgment for him had finally arrived. And though he knew already what it would be, he wanted to hear it as soon as possible, in order to leave quickly. There – just one last left turn in the maze of corridors separated him from the ticket to London. But as the Detective turned around the corner, he went numb and stopped. In front of the Chief Inspector's office stood the familiar silhouette of a tall, black-haired man, dressed in black topcoat and black leather gloves. His slightly reddish eyes met Kingsley's and the man smiled.

"Nice to see you again, Detective Kingsley." said he.

"Ah…" the man's voice woke up the young detective from his trance. "Same here, Mister Michael." The butler of the Griffin family - that could mean only one thing, completely different from the expected. Kingsley reached for the door handle. "If you excuse me, I will…"

He unwillingly pushed down the door handle and dashed in the Chief Inspector's office. The room was much larger than his. Along the few small paintings; many different diplomas and distractions were hanging on the walls. The floor was covered with a simple carpet – just to hide the holes in the rotten parquet. He shook his head because of the headache from the sudden spin and closed the door.

"Oh, Detective Kingsley, you've finally come." a stern voice said.

"I'm sorry Chief, I just…" started Kingsley out of breath.

"Good day, Detective." her mild voice resounded like a tender peal, in the room.

Kingsley raised his eyes to the figure, sitting in the arm-chair across from the Chief Inspector. She was wearing a long grey dress, laced with silver thread on the edges. Its many pleats touched gently the floor. As always she had a black ribbon, tied around her neck. Her glassy eyes were set on the Detective, watching him silently.

"Duchess Griffin!" Kingsley bowed to her and kissed her hand; then stood behind the O'Connor.

"Well, Duchess, I've fulfilled your request – the Detective and I are here now." started O'Connor. "May we know the reason of your sudden visit?"

Eileen observed them for few moments; then sighed. She took the small purse beside her and opened it. (Kingsley's face looked surprised – apparently he hadn't noticed the purse when he came in). The Duchess took out an arrow with attached black rose on it and put it on the smooth surface of desk.

"This is the reason why I came here today." said she simply.

The Chief Inspector and the Detective threw quick glances at each other. Their eyes were full of surprise. O'Connor took the arrow to examine it. The premise remained silent for a while.

"Lady Eileen, when did you get this?" said O'Connor finally.

"Yesterday, around noon." answered the Duchess. "I was out, hunting, and someone tried to shot me with this arrow while I was in the forest."

"Yesterday!" interrupted Kingsley heatedly. "My lady, I beg your pardon, but why didn't you come then?! Why did you waited for today to visit us! Your safety…"

"My safety is well insured, Detective Kingsley." Eileen pierced the young man with her icy glare. "I would have come yesterday, but I had guests from France and I just couldn't leave them in the middle of the forest, endangering their life as well. Their safety was as important as my own." She turned to O'Connor. "Chief Inspector, could you please, explain to me what is the meaning of this?"

The Chief Inspector was gazing at the arrow in front of him. His face seemed to be tense and worried. O'Connor looked at Kingsley then at the Duchess. He slowly removed his glasses and took a deep breath.

"Dear, Duchess, what I'm going to tell you now must stay between these four walls. It's something that only I, Kingsley and our colleagues in London know about. Even the press is not informed." Eileen's empty gaze was set on O'Connor. Her pale face was expressionless as usual. She nodded and the Chief Inspector continued. "Around four years ago series of mysterious murders occurred in London. The victims were owners of various companies, none particular link between them. They were all found dead in their homes. The murderer was never caught and the assassinations still continue. The ones who are familiar with the dark side of the London society call him the Phantom."

"The victims, however, were not only nobleman." added Kingsley. "Few months after the first murder the local police found the body of a man, who was known as an informer of London's criminal underworld. He was also believed to be a mediator at ordered assassinations. In his hand he was holding a black rose and a note. Notes with attached black rose are the Phantom's signature. Obviously the man was mediator during the negotiations with his client - the one, who ordered the murder. The Phantom killed him, in order his identity not to be revealed." Kingsley paused for a second. "The police suspects now that the Phantom is an elite assassin, who might be hired by an aristocrat to carry out murders for own prosper."

"So you believe that I'm his new target?" asked Eileen. The Detective looked in her beautiful, cold eyes – for his deep bewilderment he found no trace of worry or fright in there. On the contrary, the Duchess remained calm, and even though she showed no emotion, there was some kind of determination in her glassy eyes.

"Most likely." said O'Connor. "You do fit in the profile of his victims – you're an eminent entrepreneur, owner of a large company; just like your father, if I may add."

"But there's something different this time." said Kingsley. He had a different look than before – calm and thoughtful. "You see," started he, "the Phantom has never sent any kind of 'notification', if I may call it like that, to his next victim. At least the police has never found any. Even if he did, it wouldn't be such an obvious one. That's not his style."

"But you said you've found a black rose and a note at a murder scene!" Eileen's voice sounded a bit surprised.

"Yes, that's right." answered Kingsley. "We believe that through black roses and notes he is communicating with his moderators. However, he has never left any traces at the actual murder scene. In fact the roses and the notes, addressed to his moderators, hinted us that he is the assassin…Though we find them too late." Kingsley paused again. "No one knows his methods. Unfortunately we only clean up the mess, he leaves after he kills his victim."

Eileen stared at him with her empty gaze for a while; then took a deep breath.

"Do you think that this Phantom may have any connection to my sister's murder?" ask she. Her voice was calm, but cold at the same time, as if she knew the answer already.

"With these new facts plus the old evidences," started O'Connor, "there's a high possibility."

"Though an investigation must not be lead only by intuition, I'd also say that he might be the assassin." added Kingsley.

The Duchess looked aside.

"Allow me to ask you something, Chief Inspector" said she. "Knowing of the existence of such dangerous criminal, why didn't you suspect him year ago?"

"My lady, you see…"

"Excuse me, Chief, let me explain" interrupted the Detective, O'Connor nodded. "Dear Duchess, the reason why the Phantom wasn't in the suspect list is simple. Until now he's been targeting aristocrats, who live in their manors in London or its outskirts. This would be the first case that he has attacked someone in another shire. I can't answer you why. As I said his motives are still unsolvable for us."

"I see" answered Eileen. She let her glassy eyes to look at the wooden floor for few moments. She smiled ironically. "If nothing else, it seems that I've proved my innocence." She pierced the young Detective with her cold, yet burning gaze.

"Duchess Griffin, it was not my intention…"

"Don't say a word, Detective." said Eileen. "I don't know whether it was your intention or not to charge me with such unforgivable thing. I'm a public figure and such accusation could harm my business connections – I could even loose some of my company's partners. But more importantly your hasty conclusion could mean the smearing of the good name of the Griffin family – name, that my ancestors have built for ages! Have you not thought of that?"

"Well, I-I…" Kingsley started to stutter.

"My lady, please forgive his behavior back then. You've said yourself, he's still inexperienced and I'm sure he didn't mean to offend you, he has just misunderstood the facts." the Chief Inspector interfered. "We should focus now on something of great importance – your safety. Let me ask you a question. Are you planning on traveling soon?" asked he.

"Well, yes. I'm departing to London next week."

"My lady, you've been targeted by a merciless assassin – you shouldn't pass lightly on that. That's why I recommend you to avoid social activities for the moment."

"You can't expect from me such thing, Chief Inspector." said Eileen. "As a public figure I can't neglect my duties. Besides withdrawing from England's social life would mean that I'm afraid of that person. Fear is equal to defeat and this will encourage him even more. I won't give him this psychological advantage so lightly. I do understand all the risk I'm taking, Mister O'Connor and I'm ready to bear its consequences!"

The Duchess looked straight into O'Connor's eyes. In front of the Chief Inspector stood an intelligent, young woman, who had a bright future waiting for her. But still this child's eyes looked so cold and empty – as if they belonged to someone else, someone much older than her. Those glassy eyes were so full of pain and weariness – like fragile icicles, ready to break under someone's touch. But still there was a strange spark, glowing deeply inside of them – the spark of resolution. The Chief Inspector couldn't resist that gaze. He looked at Kingsley then continued:

"If your decision is absolute, than let me suggest something else. Would you mind if Detective Kingsley escorts you on your trip?" Kingsley threw at the Chief Inspector a surprised look. "Please, Duchess. This is for your own protection."

Eileen remained silent for a while. She set her eyes on the Detective. He shivered – he knew she was judging his abilities; for the second time at that. What judgment could he expect – he didn't know. Since the events from last week Kingsley couldn't be certain in anything.

"Alright, then I accept" said she finally. The Chief Inspector sighed with relief. "But at one condition." O'Connor's calm vanished immediately. "I'd like Detective Kingsley to work under cover during my stay in London. I'm afraid that the presence of a policeman would trigger many unnecessary questions, which could endanger the investigation."

"But of course, my lady. Kingsley with blend with the crowd." answered the Chief Inspector. He sighed with relief - it wasn't any unrealizable request after all.

"Then, if you allow, I shall take my leave" said Eileen and stood up. The Chief Inspector and The Detective escorted her to the door and kissed her hand. "Thank you for your time, Chief Inspector." Eileen turned to Kingsley. "Detective, I shall send you further details for the journey soon."

After the Duchess closed the door, Kingsley turned at O'Connor.

"Chief does this mean that I'm back on the investigation?" asked he.

"Yes. But only temporarily" answered O'Connor. "I'm keeping you because you're more informed than me on the 'Phantom' case, since you've worked in London for a while. But Kingsley, from now on if you allow even a tiny mistake to slip in, I will not hesitate to send the report in my drawer to London's central administration!"

"Yes, Sir. I won't let you down!"

The old clock on the council house rang exactly twelve times. The main street was quite lively for that hour of the day. The main square resounded with the voices of mean, women and children. Workers were rushing up and down, carrying any type of packages or pushing wheelbarrows. Housewives were walking slowly down the street, loaded with purchases after the daily shopping tour. Young boys and girls were running around the fountain in front of the church, playing with the water.

She was moving slowly among this heterogeneous crowd, fixing everyone's glances on her. She looked more like a beautiful apparition then like a human being – her tender, porcelain skin, her thoughtful, icy gaze, her proud, firm walk. Only the clatter of her heels gave away that she was a living creature. Many colourful silhouettes were passing by in front her glassy eyes, but she didn't even seem to notice them.

He was following her silently, observing her with his slightly reddish eyes. He was amazed by the way this young woman influenced the passers-by. They watched her with respect and at the same time with fear. Indeed she was a fair, delicate rose, surrounded by the poisonous thorns of aristocracy. He smiled and finally broke the silence between them.

"Pardon me, my lady, but I can't hide my surprise from the fact that you chose the longer way to the carriage."

"Is that so?" said she. He sensed mistrust in her voice. "Well, taking a walk on the main street of the town has its benefits – it can crush false rumors, for example." A thin, smug smile appeared on her face.

"I see." answered he. He continued with irony. "Besides, you're a pubic figure and as such you can't neglect your duties, can you?"

She turned to him and pierced him with her icy glare.

"Do you memorize every single word I say?" asked she simply.

"Well, of course, my lady." he smiled. "Knowing the personality of the master is one of the characteristics of the good servant. As you can see, it's my duty as the butler of the Griffin family after all."

"Ah…But of course." said she. She continued, lowering her voice. "But more importantly; did you get what I asked for."

He nodded slightly; then took out folded piece of paper the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to her.

"The list of the Phantom's victims so far, as you asked, my lady."

She took the paper. Just as she was about to open it, something bumped in her. Her gaze moved away from the folded paper. Suddenly her glassy eyes widened by the look at the tousled, blond hair. A pair of icy blue eyes watched her with veneration.

"I'm…I'm sorry, my lady." a thin, yet sweet voice said.

He observed this scene from behind and was eager to see her reaction.

"It's alright." said she with a kind smile. How strange, he thought, she seemed to be a completely different person now. Her voice was still calm, but at the same time it sounded with some kind of unexplainable warmth. Her pale skin had returned its natural blush. And her eyes – her eyes still sparkled like sheer, crystal marbles, but for the first time there was something like tenderness in them. Indeed, this woman looked very much like the black-haired girl from the painting in the mansion. She kneeled in front of the child and continued. "What is your name, my dear?"

"Isabel" answered the little girl. She sounded more confident than few moments ago.

"Isabel…What a lovely name you have." She noticed something on the pavement. She fixed her empty eyes on it. It was a small doll, made of wood. She gently picked it up and handed it to the girl. "I believe this is yours."

"Thank you, my lady" the child smiled and there was no trace of fear in its icy blue eyes anymore. Someone called her from behind. "I have to go. Goodbye, my lady!"

And the little girl disappeared in the crowd. She stood up and still smiling continued gazing after the blue-eyed child. His cold voice woke her from her trance.

"Is this what you call "precious memory", Mistress" he whispered in her ear.

She turned to him. She looked at him with her empty, glassy gaze. His glowing red eyes were fixed on her.

"I doubt that you will understand, even if I tell you." answered she. She passed him by. Again her look had changed - indifferent and expressionless, as usual.

He just smiled to her answer and followed her.


	10. Chapter 10

**X.**

It was a cold autumn day. Fluffy, grey clouds covered the sky, hinting that soon it would rain. Though the heavy red curtains were tied with tassels to reveal the large, arch-shaped windows, only faint light illuminated the study, creating dark, gloomy atmosphere. Again she was sitting in her expensive, upholstered with black leather arm-chair behind the solid beechen desk. Her glassy eyes were fixed on the small piece of paper in her hand. She was staring for long at the beautifully written words on the paper – the handwriting was a bit italic and swirly, but still readable.

He was standing on the other side of the premise, near the tea-table and was serving her a light breakfast – coffee and lemon cake, prepared from his own, special recipe.

He turned to her. Her pale face was expressionless as usual, but he could sense some sort of inner tension, growing behind her empty, cold gaze. He smiled slightly and picked up the silver platter; then came nearer to her.

"Your meal, my lady" he said and put the platter on the desk, then stepped aside.

She didn't react to his words. Finally, she put the piece of paper back on the desk's smooth surface. With a deep sigh she sank in the big arm-chair, resting her head on her hand.

"This won't get us anywhere" she said. Though her voice was calm, she seemed to be a bit uneasy. "I've read this list countless times and still all those names convey nothing to me. I just don't understand." She took the paper and slowly moved her eyes on him. "I think you should take a better look too, though I'm sure you know them by heart already."

Placing his hand in front of his chin, he leaned slightly towards her to examine the piece of paper again. He stared at it for a while, then started:

"Unfortunately, milady, I'm afraid that I also can't recognize any of these names. As you asked me, I've searched through all types of documents of the Griffin Company in the library back at the mansion. But alas none of these names figured in any of our registers. However, some older files from your father's days were here, so my research isn't completed yet. I'm going to use our stay in London to check those old documents as well."

She said nothing. She put away the paper piece again and threw a surprised look at the served breakfast – obviously, she hadn't noticed it at all few moments ago. She raised her cup of coffee, carried it to her lips and took a sip. Unwillingly she fixed her glassy gaze on a name from the paper.

"John B. Smith…" she mumbled. Her eyes widened, she put back the cup on the table and jumped off the arm-chair. She went to the bookcase, searched for a while through the books. He observed her with surprise – he never expected to see her so energetic. Finally she took out an old, dusty file from around fourteen years ago and sat back in the arm-chair. She opened it, turned over few crumbly pages and put her finger on a certain line. A thin, smug smile appeared on her face. "There it is! Now that's something!" said she in triumph. He looked at the spot her finger was pointing.

"Jonathan Blacksmith?" he asked in astonishment.

"Yes, a man, who used to work for my father long time ago. One of the middle class, I believe. He was the Chief of the Export in the Company. But he was caught doing some foul bargains behind my father's back, so he was dismissed." she paused. "I heard that few years later he got married to Countess Ellington, owner of a wool manufacture in London. Her business was failing at that time, so it was a fair trade between her and Mister Blacksmith. She got the sponsor she needed, and he – the title, he was longing for. As being one of the nobles now and owner of a manufacture, mister Blacksmith decided to change his name to John B. Smith, of vanity of course. He threatened my father few times, but he never carried out his menaces…As far some other names on the list - I think they were Mister Blacksmith's associates. Now I can remember Archibald mentioning them few times after I took on my father's heritage. Back then he spoke of some sort of secret alliance against the Griffin Company and all those people were involved in it. At least he thought so. I never believed in this theory." She took another sip from her coffee. He watched her carefully and smiled lightly.

"But still Count Smith and his allies were potential threat to the Company…and to you." said he.

She turned to him and looked straight into his slightly reddish eyes. Of course, she didn't let any kind of emotion to appear on her beautiful, yet cold face, but he knew he had awakened her curiosity.

"You mean?" asked she.

His smile widened.

"Excuse me, my lady, but back then you were still too young and inexperienced as an entrepreneur. In other words, it was the perfect opportunity for Count Smith and the others like him to take down the Company's monopole over Europe's textile market. Just as Mister Montgomery feared." She observed him with interest.

"You're suggesting that such an alliance against the Griffin Company actually existed?" asked she. He nodded and continued:

"I even believe that its members tried to bring you down already. With the death of your father." She pierced him immediately with her cold glassy eyes. He noticed how her body slightly shivered from his words. "According to what you said, it's most likely that Viscount of Woodsville was part of that secret alliance."

She took a deep breath. She stayed quiet for a while. He looked into her thoughtful, yet empty gaze – she was estimating every single word from their conversation in order to reach her own conclusion. What a clever young woman indeed, she trusts no one, but herself.

"You may have right." said she finally. "At first sight there isn't any particular link between the names, but they wouldn't have shown their relations in public anyway."

"Also if you concentrate on the dates of the murders, you would notice that the first crimes have been committed shortly after you took on your father's duty." he pointed few lines on the piece of paper.

"It makes sense now…" said she and paused. "But still if the Phantom played the role of a guardian angel for the Griffin Company, why did he murder Archibald and my sister? "

"Maybe he will give you the answer to this question himself, my lady." said he. He was holding the tickets for the play Othello, while smiling his serene smile. She pierced him with her icy gaze and took the tickets.

"Which reminds me that I have to prepare myself for tonight's performance." she mumbled with tag of boredom in her voice. Though she was a public figure, she deeply loathed such events.

"If you allow, I shall prepare the carriage for you, my lady." said he. He bowed and headed to the door. Suddenly he turned to her. "Excuse me, my lady, but I wanted to ask you something." She raised her glassy eyes and looked at him with surprise. He smiled. "Why did you agree to be accompanied by Detective Kingsley during your stay in London? Isn't he a threat to your own investigation?"

Her stone face blazed him with a burning glare. With his sarcasm he always managed to awake her anger. It was such an amusement for him.

"I agreed to police escort, because I had to." answer she. Her voice was calm, yet cold. "After being told about the Phantom, my denial would have seemed suspicious to the Chief Inspector, which could endanger my investigation even more. So I chose the well-measured risk, after all."

"Of course you did, Mistress" answered he, still smiling - she noticed a dangerous red glow in his eyes. Then he bowed again and left the room.

The Theatre Royal was an imposing building. Its rich architecture – mixture between Renaissance, Baroques and Gothic style, distinguished it from the local surroundings. At night, while being illuminated by the light of hundred candelabras, it façade arouse both admiration and fear in people's hearts. High columns with Greek motives formed its arch-shaped main entrance. Enormous, right-angled windows revealed the light, luminanced from the crystal chandeliers, placed all over the ceiling in the theatre's foyer .On the rooftop of the theatre, full height statues peeked down to the main stair case, which was covered with thick, red carpet because of tonight's premiere.

_Othello_ was this year's main theatre event, as it was going to open the new season at Theatre Royal. Nobles, from all four quarters of England, had come to see Shakespeare's play tonight – not that they were very interested in dramatic art. For some such event was a strategic move to establish new business relations, for others – a way to be acquainted with the latest gossips in the court and for third it was the perfect opportunity to show off power and wealth. A real parade of the deadly sins, indeed.

The carriage stopped in front of the main entrance. Hundreds of curious gazes waited to see the new arrivals. The door of the carriage opened and a dark-haired man, wearing a black tailcoat and white gloves, hopped down. He turned back and bowed to the beautiful young woman, who got off the carriage after him. Aside from the traveling cape, she was wearing a marvelous long evening dress – it consisted of underskirt of black satin and outer garment made of dark-purple brocade, decorated with black lace on the edges. She was holding a small fan in her hand. A black lace ribbon was tied around her neck, complementing the lady's gown. Her hair was gathered by elegant sliver hair-slides, decorated with amethyst. She took a quick look around; then headed straight to the staircase, followed by her servant.

As they entered the foyer, her arrival provoked whispering among some of the guests. She just ignored it – she had predicted such reaction; and handed her cape to her servant.

"Duchess Griffin! What a nice surprise!" a friendly voice said.

"Good evening, Mister Bowman!" greeted Eileen. "Glad to see you here. You're still a passionate admirer of the dramatic art, I see."

"I can't deny, my lady. In fact I feel the theatre as my second home." answered Bowman laughing. "I see that your young butler accompanies you once again, Duchess. He's sure taking a good care of you."

"Indeed, he's looking well after me. Even sometimes, I have the feeling he's become my shadow." she said, smiling, and looked at Michael with the corner of her eye.

"I do my best to grant milady's wishes." answered Michael and bowed slightly.

"You sure do wonderful job, young man." said Bowman. "To my opinion, you're a great professional!"

In that moment another voice resounded from behind.

"Lady Eileen?" She turned in the voice's direction.

"Henry!" Henry bowed to her, then kissed her hand.

"I can't believe my eyes!" he said. "I didn't expect to see you in London, when did you arrive?"

"Yesterday, in the evening. I thought it was about time to visit London not because of Company's matters, but for few days rest. Besides I heard that _Othello_ is going to be played tonight, and this was my another motivation to come here."

Michael watched them quietly. He was always astounded by the capability of humans to adjust to the situation. And the Duchess was no exception to this rule. With the time she had become a magnificent actress – sociable, yet still distant enough in order not to reveal her intentions. He had to confess, she was a clever woman with enigmatic aura and strange charm. That's what made her such an interesting object to observe.

"Good for you, my dear Duchess! I've started to worry about you. I was afraid, that you've become a complete workaholic and you've forgotten the meaning of "having fun"" said Henry laughing.

"And you always put "having fun" in front of family matters, dear Sir." answered Eileen with a smile. "You never change, Baron!"

"Now, now, Eileen, enough with the scolding! My father lectures me at each opportunity!" said Henry. "Oh, which reminds me to ask you, have you received my invitation?" Eileen looked at him questioning. "By your look, I guess you didn't. Ok, so now I have the chance to tell you personally…" Henry paused for few moments.

"Well, Henry, what it is?" Eileen's voice appeared to be calm as usual though. She noticed a slight smile on Bowman's face. "Mister Bowman, do you know what he's talking about?"

"Eileen, leave Alexander be. I will tell you" laughed Henry. "I'm moving. To Devonshire. I've recently bought a house near the main town. And in one week time I'll be hosting a masquerade ball for 'le grand' opening. You'll come, right? In fact I won't accept no as an answer!"

The Duchess remained silent and simply observed Henry. She didn't hide her surprise, but Michael sensed something else. A set of emotions arose behind her glassy eyes – she was tensed. Obviously she wasn't pleased by the news. On the other hand, the Baron beamed with joy. He was smiling charmingly at Eileen, waiting patiently for her answer.

"Henry, these are wonderful news, but I'm not sure, I'll be able to come. Please give me sometime to think."

"Alright, I'll consider the fact, that you weren't informed." Eileen sighed quietly. "But at one condition! You'll help me with the preparations for the ball!" Michael chuckled. He loved the way the young Baron cornered the Duchess. She couldn't deny at his proposal – she was helpless. But for his surprise she answered laughing:

"If that is the only way, then I'll accept your offer. At least, I'll be sure you won't ruin your own party."

"Aren't you a bit harsh, Duchess? I'm not an inexperienced young boy anymore."

"Who says you are, Baron Carpenter?" a male voice said. Eileen and the others turned around. "Good evening Lord Henry, Mister Bowman. Oh and what an unexpected guest, Lady Eileen Griffin and her talented butler Michael. It's been a while since we last met."

"Good to see you again, Count De Ville. I see that you are doing quite well, though the fact that one of your textile factories was closed two weeks ago." on Eileen's face has appeared a thin evil smile.

"Dear Duchess, I don't believe it's appropriate to discuss business matters in a theatre. We should enjoy a few pleasant hours with our friends, watching such a marvelous play like _Othello_." said the Count.

"Speaking of good manners," interrupted Henry, "don't you think it's proper to introduce your companions to us, dear Count?"

"Oh, but of course, of course." De Ville turned to the four men, who stood behind him. "Please, meet Baron Clifford, Viscount Hudson, Captain Williams from the Royal Guard and Count Ivanovitch, representative of the Russian embassy in London." The men bowed.

"I never knew you and your friends were such worshippers of the theatre, Count De Ville." added Bowman. "It's rare to see you at events like these."

"Alexander, my old friend," started De Ville, "you will be surprised how little you know about me. Don't believe what those corrupt journalists writings – their articles are just fiction." At that moment the sounds of bells resounded in the foyer. It was a sign that the performance was about to begin and the guests should take their seats. "It seems the play will start soon." said De Ville. "Excuse me, but we shall take our leave. I wish you to enjoy yourself tonight! Goodbye!" He turned around and disappeared along with his companions in the crowd.

"Where is your seat, Duchess?" asked Bowman.

"I'm in the box, on the left side of the scene." answered Eileen.

"The single-seated one?" said Henry. "You assured your 'few pleasant hours' to watch the play peacefully, I see. I'm on the fifth row somewhere in the middle. Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you, since you're in the box. What about you Mister Bowman?"

"Unfortunately the last seat available in the front was the one near the left aisle in the sixth row." The bells rang once again.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'll head to my seat." said Eileen. "I hope, I'll see you later, during the interval between the play's parts."

"Do you want me to escort you, my lady?" asked Henry.

"No need for that, Lord Henry. Then it will be difficult for you to reach your own seat." she turned to Michael. "Let's go, Michael. See you later, Baron Carpenter, Mister Bowman"

They headed to the staircase. It leaded to the second floor of the theatre, where the boxes where placed. As they were moving through the crowd, Eileen took a good look around. She recognized some of her business associates along with some of her family's acquaintances. There was nothing suspicious, but then again the Duchess knew, there wouldn't be at first sight. She had done her part; from now on all she needed to do was to wait patiently.

"Michael," she started. The butler looked at her, "have you seen Detective Kingsley?"

"Come to think of it, my lady, I haven't noticed the Detective's presence since our arrival."

"Strange, I thought he would have arrived by now." mumbled Eileen.

They finally reached the stairs and started climbing up to the second floor. On the top of the staircase, there was a man, wearing glasses and a red uniform with the golden initials of Theatre Royal. He bowed to the Duchess.

"Duchess Griffin, allow me to escort you to your seat." he said.

For Eileen's and Michael's surprise this was no other than Detective Edward Kingsley. He led them down the narrow hallway, which leaded to the boxes. When they walked away from the staircase, Eileen turned to the Detective:

"Detective Kingsley, your disguise is perfect. I almost couldn't recognize you."

"Thank you, my lady. I tried my best." They stopped in front of a blue door. Kingsley lightly pushed the golden handle to open it. "Here your seat, Duchess. If you need anything, I'll be close by. I wish you to have a good time during the performance. Now, if you excuse me, I'll continue with my duty as a staff of the theatre."

"Thank you Detective." Eileen traced him with her eyes, as he went back the narrow corridor to the staircase; then turned to Michael. "I want you to stay on your guard. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, inform me immediately."

"As you wish, my lady." answered Michael. "And what about the Detective?"

"I leave him to you. He must not interfere by any means!"

Michael smiled, then bowed slightly to her and left the box.

Eileen turned around and took a good look at the auditorium. It's been a while since she last visited Theatre Royal. Once again she got astonished by the theatre's splendour. The hall was illuminated by the light of golden candelabras and a crystal chandelier. The wall's paintings were representing scenes from famous dramas and comedies, in the ceiling were whittled down the images of the Greek god Apollo and the nine Muses. Around two hundred and fifty seats were placed in semicircle around the scene. Heavy red curtains were covering the stage, waiting to be pulled off by complicated mechanisms.

Eileen sat on her seat and leaned on its back. She had a full-view to the scene, but she couldn't observe the rest of the auditorium. For her this meant just one thing – the Phantom would be present during the performance and he didn't want her to spot him in the public. Obviously he was a man of vision.

Suddenly the light fainted and the curtains were drawn away, revealing the décor and the actors. The sound of claps filled the theatre and the performance began.

Since there was nothing left to do, the Duchess concentrated on the play. She had read the plot very carefully in advice. She knew the characters and their stories by heart. Her glassy eyes were fixed on the actors, memorizing each gesture or word. Eileen was sure, the Phantom didn't choose exactly this play randomly and she was trying to find hidden links, which could guide her to the criminal's true identity.

While the Duchess was absorbed by the play's action, Michael kept a sharp eye on the public from the backstage. How did he sneak in there? Pretty simple. He decided to take advantage of Kingsley's disguise and asked him to watch the performance from behind the curtains. In other words, he had taken the perfect observation spot and besides, in his hands he was holding a small, fluffy cat. (He found her on the way to the backstage and decided to keep it for a while). Surprisingly, these creatures had a soothing effect on him – their elegance, their mysterious charm, their independent character; qualities that weren't inherent in many of the other beings. Michael stroked the cat's soft fur and looked at the public. His slightly reddish eyes passed on face to face. He smiled evilly. Yes, he could peer through their pompous masks straight into their dark souls and almost taste every single sin, they've committed. Everyone of the present was worthy enough to be the Phantom, but who was he really? It could be the man with the chick black velveteen jacket on the third row in the middle, or maybe the man with the strange new haircut on the last row near the exit. Even the actors could be potential suspects. But whoever the Phantom was, he surely had blended with the crowd well and Michael was on the alert more then ever. He turned to the small box on the left side of the scene. The Duchess had rested her head on her hand, obviously occupied with the performance. Under the faint light of the candles she looked more like a wax figure than like a human being. Elegant and mysterious… just like the cat. Her glassy eyes reflected the scenes one after another, as if they were some kind of strange mirrors. Those eyes – they, were cold, empty, lifeless, but he knew in there, deep inside smouldered the spark of long forgotten emotions, waiting patiently to unleash the blazing fire of hatred and sorrow, the fire of her own feelings, in which she'd perish. That was the Duchess' dual personality – she was cold and determined, yet passionate and fragile… And that's what made her such an attractive prey for him. Michael smiled again and continued with the fulfillment of tonight's duty.

As the time for the first interval between the actions drew near, the butler became even more cautious. Some of the guests had already started to leave their seats, which increased the chances of the appearance of the Phantom. Finally the curtain fell after the last bow and the public headed to the exit. Michael's first thought was to check on Eileen's seat. He threw a quick look at the box. The Duchess had stood up and had also set her eyes on him. Then he noticed another figure behind her, but he quickly recognized Kingsley's silhouette. Obviously the Detective had hurried up to escort safely the Duchess to the foyer. After the last guest had left the auditorium, Michael also headed back to the main entrance. When he arrived at the staircase, he faced an ocean of hats, dresses, trousers, haircuts and fans. There was no way to pass through the crowd. Were there indeed so many people in such a small hall? All Michael could do was to wait patiently until the bells' ring. And he didn't wait for too long.

Around fifteen minutes later the guests were announced, that the second part of the performance was going to start soon. Eileen slowly approached the staircase, where the butler was standing. She looked at him with her cold gaze and spoke quietly:

"You've found good observation position, but I noticed that the cat got you carried away."

"Excuse me, my lady" answered Michael and bowed slightly.

"It doesn't matter." said she indulgently. "Well, have you noticed something suspicious?"

"Unfortunately I haven't, milady"

"So, he is bit of an actor too." she mumbled. "We have no other choice, but to wait then." They reached the blue door of the box. Michael bowed and was about to leave when she said "Michael…keep an eye on the Detective, please."

"As you wish, my lady" he bowed again and closed the door.

Eileen sighed and sank in her seat. She took a good look around the stage, but once again everything seemed to be in order. There was little time left before the start of the second part of the performance, which meant that around one hour later the play would end. As the minutes were passing by, she began to think, that all of this was some kind of joke, a test, she had failed. The thought of being deceived absorbed her and though she didn't show it, she was nervous because of that. Suddenly Eileen heard the door's creak, but before she could face the one, who entered, a gloved hand gagged her with a handkerchief. She tried to stay calm and was about to turn her head against her attacker, when she felt her body going numb. She struggled to preserve control over her muscles, but she lost conscious.

In the next moment she woke up in some kind of an attic. Eileen quickly regained her self-control and tried to locate, where exactly she was. First of all she noticed that she wasn't tied up, she was just sitting a big chair in the middle of the room. Then she listened carefully in the sounds around her. The Duchess heard clearly the voices of the actors somewhere beneath; then saw a moving rope-tackle block above her seat. Obviously she was somewhere above the stage. Around her were lying old decors and costumes, covered with dust and cobwebs.

"Good evening, Duchess Griffin" a voice said.

She recognized this voice – voice she would prefer not to remember at all. She slowly turned her head to the left. On one of the laths, which built up the standing of the roof, there was a cloaked figure with a top hat. His face was covered with white mask, which had no mouth, just an openings for the eyes.

"You are the one they call the Phantom, I presume" Eileen said and smiled slightly.

The man hopped off his seat, took off his hat and gallantly bowed to her.

"You know my name, I'm flattered" he said with deep voice. "I'm glad, you've accepted my invitation. I'm sorry for treating you so rudely few moments ago, but you see a man with my reputation must be cautious when he appears in public."

"I see" started the Duchess. "Let me ask you this: Though your own security is endangered, you insisted to meet me. Why? Forgive me, but you've awaken my curiosity." She sounded calm and cold as usual.

"Going straight to the point, I see. That's what I like about you, Duchess" said he. In his voice there was a tag of satisfaction. "Don't worry, I won't keep you under pressure" He walked nearer "I just wanted to thank you; that's all."

"To thank me?" Eileen looked at him questioning. "For what?"

"Come on, Duchess, I'm sure you know." he started. He took out a playing card –and threw it towards her. The Jack of Spades. Eileen looked at the card without a shiver. "Thank you for eliminating him. You saved me up a lot of time that could have been wasted."

The Duchess sighed and turned to him:

"I guess, I've just returned the favor. You've been playing the role of a secret guardian angel for me and my company for so long. This is the least I could do."

"But please, my lady. It's my duty to protect good entrepreneurs, such as yourself, at any costs."

"Even if it means to murder my sister and my most trusted servant?" she pierced him with her icy glare. He flinched.

"They were an unnecessary obstacle, so they were removed." With hops approached her slowly. "Your butler was inexperienced. He was a bad advisor for you. You saw what happened to your mother and father. How did came to this, what do you think? Thanks to Mister Montgomery's ill judgments, your father couldn't preserve the Viscount's true intentions. If that man continued to consult you, your company would have gotten closed by now. And as far about your sister. Well, she wasn't standing in your way intentionally, but she slowed up your professional growth. You were in two minds back then, weren't you? You had to choose between your work and your sister. She needed you badly, I know, and you wanted to fill the emptiness in that little heart of hers, which the death of your parents had left .Well, I made the choice easier for you." He leaned to her ear and whispered smiling "Am I not right?"

Eileen surprisingly stood up, pushing the chair on the ground. A set of emotions arose in her chest, though she her pale face was expressionless as usual. She faced him fearlessly and her glassy eyes met his. He shuddered. Those eyes were the ones from few seconds ago, yet somehow different. Yes, they were still cold and empty, but her icy gaze had turned into a blazing fire, which burned his soul. Obviously she had heard enough.

"Who are you working for" she said slowly. There was a slight tag of anger in her voice.

"Who am I working for" he laughed. Then his voice changed – he sounded serious. "I am working for you, dear Duchess. I'm here to ensure your survival in this world of cruelty and lies. I'm created by your inexperience." he paused. "Look at yourself now: You are a respected public figure, a household name in the textile branch. And that's all thanks to us, to our unsigned union! Please, don't ruin it."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself." she said simply. "You claim to know me so well, then it must be clear to you, that I'll avenge my sister at all costs. Because she was my most precious thing and you've taken her away. You should be afraid. After all I'm the one who killed your minion."

"But of course I am." answered the Phantom. "You've become a powerful and determinate woman. But, dear Duchess, aren't you forgetting something? This time I am the one holding the gun."

Eileen felt the cold touch of metal on her chest. She lowered her eyes. A silver gun, with elegant wooden butt with craved floral motives and inlayed gems, was pointed against her. She tried not to loose self-control.

In this moment the wooden floor creaked. They both turned to direction of the sound. In front of them was standing a handsome young man, who was wearing a black tailcoat and white gloves. His slightly reddish eyes almost glowed under the faint candle light.

"Excuse me for interrupting, milady, but Mister Kingsley is worried about you. He found your absence disturbing and in around…" he took out his golden watch" ten minutes will arrive in front of your empty seat in the box. I know you asked me not to interfere, but I think it's time for you to return in the auditorium."

"You must be the Duchess' present butler, Michael, right?" asked the Phantom.

"That is correct, dear Sir." answered Michael with a serene smile and bowed.

"I don't know how you managed to find her, but if you make just another step forward I'll…"

"Shoot her?" The Phantom turned with surprise. The man, who was standing right in front of him just now, had moved between him and the Duchess, blocking the gun's muzzle with his gloved hand. "We both know you won't do such a grave mistake, Sir. Under us there is a hall, full of English nobles. Among them there are representatives of the police and the Royal guard. There are two exists from the theatre and tonight they are well-guarded by sentries. There is simply no escape."

The Phantom chuckled and pulled away the gun.

"Indeed, you are an interesting person, Michael. Well done. You sure know how to protect your master."

"After all it's my duty as a butler of the Griffin family." Michael smiled slightly.

"Then if you excuse me, I shall take my leave for now. I shall be seeing you again, Duchess."

The Phantom bowed and disappeared in the darkness. Eileen remained silent for few moments.

"You didn't kill him for the exactly same reason – the ruckus, it would cause, right?" said she finally.

"You're indeed a far-seeing person, my lady." Michael answered. Then he looked at her with his glowing red eyes and added with an evil smile: "Besides, I prefer to wait for my prize a little bit more."

"Just as I thought" she mumbled. "Let's go back to my seat before Kingsley appears."

Michael bowed to her.. Just before they left suddenly she leaned and took something from the floor.

"What is it?" asked Michael.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just dropped one of my hair-slides."

Then they headed back to the theatre hall.


	11. Chapter 11

**XI.**

Though it was an early Saturday morning, he already rushed up and down the corridors of the main house. Firstly, he prepared the breakfast – _omelette du fromage_ with bacon, and tea; a typical French meal with English taste; then he gave orders to the rest of the servants. After that he took up with his duties as a butler – serving the breakfast, polishing the silver cutlery, coordinating the housework. With the years this had become an empty (and rather boring) daily routine for him.

Sometime around noon he looked at his small, golden pocket-watch. It showed 20 minutes to twelve. Usually at this time he would go down to the kitchen to instruct the cook about today's lunch menu, but he headed to the staircase, which leaded to rooms on the second floor instead. As he passed through the main hall, he suddenly stopped. He sensed a presence in the premise and looked around. His slightly reddish eyes stopped on the womanly figure, which was sitting in the arm-chair next to the fireplace.

The flaming logs were burning slowly, giving out quiet cracks. The light from the fire added a soft glow to her pale skin. The edges of long dark dress touched slightly the expensive, Persian carpet. She had cast a richly decorated with floral motives stole over her shoulders. As usual a dark ribbon was tied around her neck.

He stepped up to her. For his surprise he noticed, that she was holding a small toy in her hands – a porcelain doll. Except for the many patches on the doll's dress he admitted that the toy was in state of good preservation. She was observing quietly the doll's face. It seemed to him, that they were holding a silent conversation with their empty eyes; a conversation, which only they could understand. She sighed and broke the silence:

"We are so much alike – the doll and I; aren't we?" she started. "Same porcelain skin, same emotionless face, same glassy eyes…" she paused. "Same emptiness inside."

He took a stand behind the arm-chair. With a questioning voice he said:

"Same emptiness, my lady says. Allow me to disagree. You once said the pitch black void behind your chest is filled with lost memories and broken dreams. They guide you through your own darkness and give you power – the power of revenge." One of the logs in the fire place cracked louder. As hypnotized she moved her gaze on the fire. The dancing flames were reflected in her glassy eyes. He slowly leaned to her and whispered. "What's the feeling to control such a destructive power?"

She remained silent for few moments. Then she heard her own voice resounding in the room – she couldn't control the words she uttered:

"It feels…just like a blazing fire, burning everything in its path…Even myself."

He stepped back, still smiling.

"It's almost noon, milady. The Baron will arrive any time soon."

His words broke the spell, which had enchanted her. She stood up and turned to him.

"Very well. I shall prepare myself. Please, welcome our guest properly."

"As you wish, Mistress." He bowed to her and headed back to the kitchen.

The carriage moved slowly through the narrow, paved London streets. It followed the road with its all turns until it finally reached its goal – the main London Street. The coachman pulled the strings slightly and the horses stopped. The door of the carriage opened and a charming, elegantly dressed man hopped on the pavement. He helped the young lady behind him to get off and turned to the coachman.

"Thank you for the marvelous ride, Michael." Henry said. "Now if you allow me, I shall take away your master for few hours. Be assured, she's in good hands."

Michael took off his cylinder and bowed to the Baron with a smile.

"Wait for us somewhere here." Eileen said.

"As you wish, my lady. Have a pleasant walk." Eileen pinned him with her icy glare.

"Let's go, Duchess Griffin." said Henry with enthusiasm and took her hand under his arm. "See you later, Michael."

They both walked away from the carriage. Michael observed silently as their silhouettes vanished within the crowd. Then he drove the carriage down the street.

London's main street was a lively place – merchants were selling exotic fruits and vegetables, the wives of nobles were storming the boutique stores in order to dress into the latest fashion. Young children were running around, playing various games.

The couple attracted the attention of many. The old ladies began immediately to gossip with each other. It was indeed a rare sight to see the Duchess of Devonshire taking a walk in London, with the young Baron Carpenter at that.

"Pardon me for asking" whispered Henry, "but does your appearance in public attract so much attention each time?"

"You know me Baron; I'm not the out-going type lately."

"Then I'm lucky." Said he with a smile.

"And that's because?" said Eileen with questioning voice.

"Because I succeeded to take you out for a walk."

Eileen smiled slightly.

"At least you helped me to replace the old gossips at the court with new ones."

Henry laughed. They walked down the street and entered a small pastry shop. "Backer's shop" was one of the most famous confectioneries in London. The pastry shop on London Street was just one of the many shops, which were spread throughout England. Because of its central location in the last few years it became famous for the special orders, which the aristocrats made here. And since Henry's ball was a special occasion, a special cake was required - the Baron ordered twelve layered vanilla cake with marzipan decorations. Personally Eileen was against such luxuriance, but the rules of nobility required it.

After the pastry shop the next stop was Madame Loren's Boutique. Henry had to pick up his costume for the ball, which was specially imported from France. Eileen was forced to wait for him forty minutes in the boutique's foyer since the Baron wanted to keep his character for the masquerade in secret. The Duchess began to feel a deep boredom, even though they still had to go about many places still. Eileen could almost see Michael's ironical smile in front of her. She started asking herself, why she agreed to Henry's little tease.

"Eileen?" The Baron's words startled her. "I'm sorry for my delay. I hope I didn't bore you already…"

"Oh, no, it's alright, Henry…"

"I promise, the next stops won't take us so long." Henry smiled. It was such a charming, innocent smile. Eileen couldn't resist and smiled back at him.

The Baron kept his promise. They visited the groceries store to check the food supply; then arranged the new furniture and decorations for the party. When finally even the smallest details around the occasion were arranged, they headed back to the carriage. On the way back they passed by the flower shop of mister Florin – one of the oldest flower shop in England. The Florin family was famous for importing exotic flowers from all over the world. Eileen stopped in front of it.

"Henry, do you mind if we take a look?" said she. Henry looked at her, then cried out.

"What a fantastic idea, Eileen!" answered Henry. "I never thought of floral decorations for the party. I knew it was the right choice to take you with me today, Duchess."

As they entered the shop, a small bell above the door rang. The aroma of hundreds of flowers embraced the customers. Eileen looked around – exotic representatives of the flora surrounded her. Such a colourful fairy-scene of beauty!

"Good day!" a man's voice said. Somewhere behind the many leaves and blossom there was a small desk. A friendly old man was standing behind it, smiling softly at the couple.

"Mister Florin! Long time no see." Henry greeted cheerfully.

"Lord Carpenter. And the young lady – could it be? Duchess Griffin! It's an honour!" He bowed to them and kissed Eileen's hand. "How can I serve you?"

"I've come with a special request, mister Florin. You see I'm organizing a party and I'd like to buy some floral decoration for it. What can you offer me?"

"Ah, decoration for a special occasion, I see." Mister Florin turned and opened the door to the backroom. "Please, Baron, follow me. Here I keep some of my unique species."

Henry turned to Eileen.

"Are you coming?"

"I'd rather take a look around here. Some flowers had already caught my attention."

Henry nodded and disappeared in the backroom with mister Florin.

As the door closed, Eileen turned around. She began moving between the flowerpots. Her gaze examined each flower carefully – obliviously she was searching for something. And finally she saw it. There behind the daisies and the violets, was the plant she was searching for – the black rose. Eileen moved to it. The Duchess had figured out that the only place she could find that rare flower was mister Florin's shop. That's the reason why she agreed to escort Henry. It was the perfect opportunity not to raise suspicions on herself – after all her own investigation had to kept in secret. She touched the black blossom carefully. Its leaves were as soft as velvet.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" a voice said. "No wonder they call the rose the queen of the flowers"

Eileen startled.

"Mister Florin…"

"Excuse me for startling you, my lady, but Lord Henry asked me to call you. Obviously he can't make decision."

"Of course, I'm coming."

"But first I want to greet you for your exceptional taste, Lady Griffin. The black rose is quite tender and fair flower. Though it has quite the character – it's very hard to grow them; they are very capricious."

"Yes, I've heard." Eileen said. "You see, my mother was interested in that kind of roses. She wanted to plant some at our garden in the mansion." She paused. "Now I'd like to try to do it for her memento."

"I see." said Florin. "If you want my advice I can give you guidance how to grow them."

"Thank you."

"If I have to be honest, if you order some black roses, you'll be one of the few customers, who are brave enough to face their hard to please temperament." laughed Florin.

"Is that so?" asked Eileen. There was a tag of curiosity in her voice.

"Yes. In fact, when I think of it…the only one, who succeeded to grow black roses, is an acquaintance of yours…" Eileen tingled, but she didn't let any sign of emotion to appear on her face. "Mister Alexander Bowman, that is."

The Duchess was petrified. She just couldn't hide her surprise.

"Mister Bowman, you say…" She tottered slightly.

In that moment Henry came back. He ran to her and caught her.

"Eileen, are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. The strong aroma of the flowers dazed me." She took a deep breath. "Henry, I'm sorry I'd like to go back already."

"But of course, of course. We are going." The Baron turned to Mister Florin. "Mister Florin, I will contact you soon to arrange our agreement. Now if you excuse us."

They left the flower shop and headed with quickened pace to the carriage.


	12. Chapter 12

**XII.**

He was walking through the corridor quietly. Even his steps didn't resound as he was moving on the solid stone.

The last events took quite the rapid course. Her trip to London turned out to be very important for their private investigation. For few days they had researched a great amount of information in order to check their last hypothesis. At the same time she managed to preserve the wrong concept in front of the Detective, that her visit had something to do with her duties as public figure and entrepreneur. Not only she checked up on the Company's main office, but she also inspected the work in the entire factory. And all of that, just for few files, they needed from the company's documentation. Indeed, she had become an elegant liar.

Unnoticeably they day for the ball drew nearer and they had to return to the mansion in Devonshire. And today the (not so) eagerly awaited night had finally come.

Now he was taking the labyrinth of various corridors to her chambers, carrying her costume for the masquerade. The dressmaker had just brought it from his workshop. Though it was barely half past eight, he hurried to wake her up, as she had requested last night.

At least he reached the solid oak door. The richly decorated, gold-plated handle went slowly down. He entered the room.

Because of the dropped curtains the premise seemed dusky. The darkness softly outlined the edges of the furniture. Only the silk, white canopy in the center of the premise could be distinguished clearly. It was covering the bed like a ghostly veil, hiding it from everyone's eyes.

Firstly he left the costume on the nearest hanger. Since he knew the location of the objects already too well, he adroitly moved through the room to the windows. As he drew aside the curtains mild morning light entered the room, illuminating it entirely. The furniture took its colour and shape.

He walked to the bed. Behind the canopy a womanly silhouette could be seen. He drew the silk fabric aside and tied it with ribbons. He looked at the figure. The fluffy blankets were moving slowly up and down in synchrony with her breathing. Her pale skin could be seen trough her nightgown. Her closed eyes gave to her facial expression unnatural calmness. If it wasn't the steady raising of her chest, someone could have easily mistaken her for Snow White, lying in the glass coffin.

"My lady" he said quietly. She didn't react to his words. He leaned slightly forward. Her long hair was covering her tender shoulders. His gloved hand gently removed her black locks, revealing her delicate neck. His slightly reddish eyes stopped on the pentagram-shaped mark. He smiled. He took off his white glove. The same scar could be seen on his hand. His long fingers tenderly touched her mark. She shivered. Her eyelids moved.

"Good morning, milady" he said.

"Is it morning already?" She sat in her bed and massaged her forehead. "What is today's schedule?"

"Today is the day of the ball, my lady. Mister Peterson has already brought your costume for tonight. He said that he'll come back around noon to make some changes, if needed. As you asked last night, I've also prepared the bath for you." He answered. "Now if you want me to serve the breakfast."

"The day of the ball you say?" she said and stood up. Her glassy gaze fell on the costume. She went to it and quickly examined it. Everything was exactly as she had ordered it – the model, the textile. Finally she picked up the beautifully decorated mask. "So the time has come for one last performance…" She sounded as if she was talking to herself. She left the mask; then she disappeared behind the window-dressing.

He started making the bed. When he finally put everything in order, he looked at her. Only her elegant arms could be seen, as she was putting her clothes on the window-dressing.

"Could you hand me a towel, please." She said. Her voice was calm, but still he sensed some kind of eagerness in it. He fulfilled her request and gave her a towel from the cupboard. After a brief moment of silence she continued: "Let me ask you something. Do you really believe that Alexander is responsible for my sister's murder? After the research it turned out that he indeed has a good motive – not only the company, but also a big part of my property will pass to him in case of my death. Still it's bothering me. It's too obvious. Even the police could have discovered that much. I have the feeling that I'm missing something."

With a cunning smile he answered:

"Excuse me, milady, but do I sense hesitation in you?" he paused. "Could it be that you are…afraid of tonight's events; afraid of the truth?"

Her clear laugh resounded in the room.

"Afraid of the truth? Not at all. After all that was the one and only reason to conclude our agreement – to uncover the truth, no matter what the truth is. And as for the outcome of tonight's events; I have already resigned to it the very day I met you. And you know it very well." She finally appeared from behind the dressing window. The towel was wrapped up tightly, delineating the curves of her body. Her long black hair was tied so, it hid the strange looking scar on her swan-like neck. He was still smiling at her. Honestly, he had to admit to himself, that her young forms were quite appealing. Her seductive beauty and cold character answered to his tastes. Indeed, she was the temptation itself. She walked to him. Her empty, glassy gaze met his red glowing eyes. She spoke quietly. "Could it be that you're asking me such question, because your extent of hunger has already reached its limits?" she rose on her fingers and whispered. "Tell me; is the taste of souls so delicious, that you want to take mine as soon as possible?"

He looked at her. My, my, with the time she had become almost as cunning as him. He replied to her with an evil smile on his face.

"For your soul, Mistress, I can wait as long as necessary."

She smiled back at him.

"I think it's time for you to leave my chambers now. It's quite inappropriate for a butler to be at his master's bedroom, while she's wearing nothing but a wrapped up around her body towel. We don't need new rumors about me, do we?" she stepped back and headed to the bathroom. "Please, do call Hildegard to help me."

"As you wish, my lady." He bowed to her. "Then I shall go to serve the breakfast." With these words he opened the door and disappeared.

Though it was cold, the night was clear. The heavy gates of the mansion opened, letting through a carriage, pulled by two horses. It moved swiftly over the road, which leaded to the main house. It stopped in front of the solid stone staircase. The coachman, who was wearing a black tailcoat and white gloves, hopped gallantly on the ground and opened the door. A woman got of the carriage. She was wearing a long white dress, edged with silver threads. Small crystals were shining on the dress' corset. The lady's hair was carefully gathered with a silver slide, covered with diamonds. Her pale face was hidden behind a beautifully decorated mask. A young man, dressed like Arlecchino, rushed down the stairs to meet the newcomer. It was obviously the host himself – Baron Henry Carpenter. He had organized a masquerade ball at his new home in Devonshire.

"Good evening, Duchess!" he greeted. "Punctual, as always!" He kissed her hand. "My, you look stunning this evening!"

"Thank you, dear Baron." She smiled. "Your costume is quite interesting as well! I think you've chosen a fitting character for tonight's event."

The Baron laughed.

"I have a good taste, right? And what about you, lady Griffin? Who are you dressed like?"

"I got the idea for this costume from a doll. My sister used to call her Melvina."

"Melvina, what a beautiful name..." Henry said. "But why are we standing outside. Please, let's go in." He bowed to her. "Dear Melvina, would you allow Arlecchinoto escort you to his humble home?"

Eileen turned to the coachman.

"Michael, if you're needed, I'll sent someone to call for you. Now you can go."

Michael bowed to her; then he drove the carriage to the stables.

Henry and Eileen took the stairs to the house. As they entered through, the main door, Duchess was stunned by the chic interior of the mansion. Various styles like Baroques, Rococo and Renaissance, were interweaving, creating a unique atmosphere. Heavy curtains were hiding arch-shaped windows; thick carpets were covering the solid floor. The light of dozen of candelabras was illuminating each premise. Richly coloured painting were handing on the walls. They headed to the main hall.

The main hall was a very spacious room. Like the rest of the rooms it was richly decorated for the party. Many servants were catering for the guests. A large orchestra was placed on the eastern side of the hall. Besides the music, the sounds of voices and jingling glasses resounded in the premise.

The appearance of the Duchess and the Baron drew the attention of all the guests. Behind the mask her glassy eyes took a quick look around the present. Though the costumes, some of them she could recognize. She noticed some of her business associates, like Count Hudson and Mister Simons. Lady Annette and Lady Elizabeth hadn't missed the chance to show up with their new protégés and to discuss the newest gossips. Even Chief Inspector O'Connor and Detective Kingsley were present. Eileen assumed that they were supervising her from distance. In other words she had to be careful tonight. But among the guests, she couldn't see the one she was looking for. A servant passed by her. Henry took two glasses of wine.

"Eileen" he handed her a glass. Then he turned to the guests. "Dear, guests, while I have your attention, I'd like thank you for attending my small house party. I hope you all have a good time. I've thought of a longer speech, but I'll cut it short from here." The guests laughed. "A toast for my new home! Cheers!" Everyone took a sip from the wine.

Eileen tagged with Henry during most of the time. She thought it would be the best way to find Bowman among the crowd. Every time she was being introduced, she put a fake smile on her face. It was so hard for her, that soon her mouth started aching. The time was passing and Eileen started worrying – she still hadn't seen Bowman around. During one of the boring chats, she was taking part in, the Duchess decided to ask Henry about him.

"Henry, I want to ask you something." She whispered. "Is Mister Alexander Bowman, attending the ball? I would like to see him."

"I'm sure I saw him coming." Henry answered. "I'll call him for you." He turned to the guests. "If you excuse me for a moment." And he disappeared in the crowd.

Eileen continued smiling gently at the masked figured in front of her, pretending she was interested in the discussed topic. Suddenly she got distracted. Her empty gaze fell on the wall. It was covered with various trophies and hunting weapons – guns, arrows, bows, crossbows, pistols. In the middle of the wall there was a paining of a man and his hunting dogs – it was Henry's father, the Lord of Kent.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" said someone. "It seems that the Baron is an excellent hunter like his father."

"Yes. It's certainly so." answered Eileen. She as still staring at the wall – there was something familiar, but she couldn't decide what it was. Henry's voice woke her from her trance.

"Duchess Griffin! Look who's here!"

"Ah, Alexander! Good to see you!" Bowman, unlike the other guests wasn't wearing a costume. "Even though you're not wearing a costume, I couldn't recognize you! I guess my eyesight is going bad."

Alexander laughed.

"Don't talk like that, lady Griffin. The truth is that my visit here is from business interests. Do you remember Lord Bristol, the entrepreneur from America? He's present at the party right now and I want to discuss with him some market manners. I'd like to arrange a meeting with him while he's here in England."

"Always putting the work in first line, Mister Bowman?" said Eileen. "I'm lucky to have you as my Financial Advisor. If you allow me, I'd like to join you in your conversation with Lord Bristol. I…"

"Oh no, Eileen, you don't!" the Baron interfered. He laughed "This is my party and I forbid you to think about work tonight!" In that moment a tender music resounded in the hall. Many couples were already dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the room.

"Come to think of it." continued Henry. "I still haven't invited you to dance. Will Melvina grant me the honour to dance with her?"

Henry bowed to the Duchess and offered her his hand. Eileen froze on her place. She didn't know how to react.

"Duchess Griffin" started Bowman. "You don't have to worry about the business matters now. Everything is under my control. You're young, milady. Have fun tonight!"

Eileen nodded, but she didn't feel like dancing at all. She wanted to observe closely Alexander. At the same time the Duchess knew, it would seem suspicious to decline Henry's request. Finally she took the Baron's hand and he leaded her to the dance floor. They bowed to each other and started dancing in rhythm with the music. They were in perfect synchrony with the rest of the dance couples. Eileen tried to trace Bowman with her eyes, but he completely disappeared. She sighed. At least she knew he was present. She started loosing her patience. She wished herself the song to finish sooner, in order to find him and question him.

"Is something troubling you, Eileen?" asked Henry. She startled. She had completely ignored his presence. "Don't worry about Alexander, my dear. You said it yourself – he is an excellent Financier, he won't let you down." He smiled gently at her.

"I guess you're right." She smiled back at him. What a gentleman he had become. No wonder her father wanted her to marry him. Maybe under other circumstances that could have happened, but now it was impossible. The darkness had engulfed her heart and it had become a shard of ice, turning her into emotionless shell.

With few final accords the song had finished. The couples separated and the partners bowed to each other. Immediately the orchestra started playing new tune.

"Oh! Waltz!" said Henry cheerfully. "Will it be rude of me if ask you to a second dance, Duchess?"

"Excuse me, dear Sir" a voice said. Henry turned back. There was a man, dressed like Pierrot from _Commedia dell'Arte_, with the slight deference that he was wearing a black costume and black leather gloves. His face was hidden by a black domino. "I'd like to separate you from your partner just for this song, if you don't mind."

Henry shivered.

"Of course. Please, if the lady agrees."

The mysterious man bowed to the Duchess and offered her his hand. She looked at his face. Behind the black domino two red eyes flashed at her. Eileen recognized him immediately. She took his hand. They headed to the center of the dance floor. His gloved hand went around her waist, while she put hers on his shoulder. They started dancing in a slow one, two, three rhythm. He was an excellent dancer. In his hands she looked like a fragile porcelain doll, controlled by a skilful puppeteer.

Eileen felt that everyone's gazes fell on them. She threw a quick glance at the crowd – it had formed a circle around the dancing couple. She couldn't notice Henry though. Obviously he was displeased with the mysterious man, who snatched his lady.

"I thought, I told you to blend in, not to draw everyone's attention." She whispered. There was a tag of annoyance in Eileen's voice.

"My apologies, milady, but this was the only way to I could talk with you." Michael said. "As you know, Mister Bowman is here, but I'm afraid he won't be around for much longer." He spun her. "Besides I see nothing suspicious in a dancing couple." Her icy glare pierced him.

"Is he leaving already?" asked she.

"At midnight Mister Bowman will be heading to London."

They turned. Eileen looked behind his shoulder at the clock – there were ten minutes till midnight. They were running out of time. Her gaze tried to find Alexander among the guests. Unconsciously her glassy eyes fell again on the wall with the trophies. Still she felt something familiar about it and continued observing it like hypnotized. She heard someone's voice calling her.

"My lady, Bowman is leaving. Now is our chance." She remained silent. "My lady?"

"It's not him…" she mumbled. "It's not him…" She looked at Michael. Though the mask, he could see clearly her empty, glassy eyes. They were the same eyes – cold, emotionless, and yet they were different. By their expression he understood, that she had figured out everything. "Meet me at the staircase in twenty minutes. We are leaving."

"As you wish, milady." He smiled.

The tune stopped. They separated and bowed to each other; then she vanished among the guests. He watched after her for few moments; then he also disappeared in the crowd.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

The winter had finally come. The vast emerald green fields were now covered with thin, white blanket; the forests had changed their golden leaves with an array of shining, silver crystals. Fluffy grey clouds had hidden the turquoise sky. A true white fairytale.

They were walking silently. The fresh snow crunched under their feet, imprinting their footsteps.

His glowing red eyes were fixed on her elegant silhouette. In front of him was standing the same crumbly orchid, and yet she was somehow different. She had changed during the past several weeks since that night. She had become even more silent and wrapped in thought. She had left any type of work – everything, connected with the Company, was in his hands. Either she stayed at her room during whole day, or she spent hours locked at the library. She didn't even let him to interfere with her privacy.

And now this strange request of hers… After the many days spent in solitude, all of sudden she wanted to visit her family's final resting place.

The various tombstones created a dispiriting atmosphere. The only visitors of the graveyard were the crows, which cawed out from time to time. But she didn't seem to be disturbed by the birds' presence. She was moving with a slow pace. Her long, black dress, edged with expensive lace, touched slightly the white ground. She had a traveling cape thrown across her shoulders. Around her delicate neck she had the usual matching ribbon, which was partly hidden by her long hair. Black laced gloves covered her tender hands. Under the soft winter light her pale face seemed to be even more fragile than before. Her glassy eyes were cast on the nothingness, as if she could read some invisible words engraved in the transparent air. Like her shadow he was walking right behind her. In his gloved hands he was holding a bouquet of white carnations.

They were now at the far side of the graveyard. They stopped. She leaned and cleared the snow from a gravestone of white marble with a hand. In the marble were engraved the names of Duke and Duchess Griffin and Kathrin. A slight, sad smile appeared on her lips. After a short moment of silence she said, almost whispering, as if she was talking to herself:

"It's been a while since I've visited them for the last time." She paused; then she added. "What an arrogant and selfish daughter I've become."

He looked at her with bewilderment.

"What do you mean, milady? Isn't it all that you're doing for the sake of your family's name?" he asked. She didn't answer. She continued gazing the gravestone quietly. Finally she turned to him.

"Hand me the bouquet, please." As he was giving her the bouquet he noticed that she was holding in the other hand the same doll, he saw back in London. "Now if you excuse me, I'd like to be alone for a while."

Their gazes met. As always her face was expressionless, but her hidden sorrow added some mild touches to her glassy eyes. Indeed she was fragile as a snowflake, but he also sensed some kind of deep, unshakeable resolve in her, which added more charisma to the character of this ice queen.

"As you wish, Mistress." He bowed. With a slight smile he moved away.

The minutes were passing by, and yet she still didn't come back. He was waiting for her by the horses. They were tied near the main entrance. With the time the animals began to act restless. He calmed them down quickly. Then he took out his golden pocket watch – indeed she had tarried for quite long. He decided to call her.

Again he took the long way through the graveyard, in order to reach her family's grave. But for his big surprise when he finally arrived, she wasn't there. He looked around, called her name few times – she was nowhere to be seen. His gaze fell on the marble tombstone. Next to it were lying the bouquet of white carnations and the porcelain doll. Suddenly he heard a horse's neighing. He turned and ran back to the main entrance. There he saw the guard, who staring at something in the distance.

"Excuse me, Sir." said he. "Did just now a young lady, dressed in black, set off with her steed?"

"Yes…" answered the guard. He seemed a bit startled. "She went that way." And he pointed the direction.

"Thank you very much!" He smiled kindly; then he untied his horse.

But instead of riding, he went down the road walking. The guard continued watching at this mysterious, young man with strange, slightly reddish eyes, who was wearing black topcoat and leather gloves, until he completely disappeared among the snowy hills.

The horse's hoofs clattered rapidly on the pavement, leaving small clumps of snow behind. Slight red blush had appeared on her cheeks because of the stinging wind. Her breath could be seen clearly in the cold air. Her hair tousled.

In front of her gaze small, white crystals were dancing in the wind. They created scenes and silhouettes of long forgotten events. As if she stretched her hand, she could touch her past. She shook her head. The images scattered in hundreds of snowflakes. It wasn't the time to soften up. _"How can I be such a bloody fool? To allow being deceived like that! Unforgivable!" _That thought made her boil with anger on the inside. She gripped the reins harder and spurred the steed again.

Suddenly in the distance a large building emerged. Bit by bit it took its forms – it was obviously a mansion. Eileen crossed quickly the manor's ground and stopped in front of the solid stone staircase. She took the stairs in one breath. As she reached the final platform the main door opened. The butler of the house appeared.

"Duchess Griffin?!" he said with surprise in his voice. "We didn't expect your arrival…How can I serve you?"

"Excuse me for my sudden visit, but I must speak to Baron Carpenter. It's urgent…"

"Oh, I see…" said the butler. Obviously he had noticed that she'd been in a hurry. "He's training right now at the living room. Allow me to escort you."

Eileen entered the house. The butler closed door behind her. Then he led her through the rooms of the mansion. Some of them she recognized from the ball, though their rich decoration was now taken off. They reached the living room. The butler knocked two times, and then he entered:

"My lord, you have a visitor."

Henry was practicing fencing. He didn't turn to the butler.

"Who is it, Christopher?" he asked, as he continued training some stabs.

"It's me, Baron Carpenter." Eileen came in. She took a quick look at the premise – it was the same room where the ball was held, though now it seemed a bit smaller; perhaps because of the furniture. Then her gaze stopped at the Baron's surprised face.

"Eileen, what an unexpected surprise! Please, come in, come in! Excuse me for my awful look. I had no idea you are coming." Eileen stepped closer. She glanced at the butler; then at Henry. He took the hint. "Thank you, Christopher. You may leave now."

"Excuse me, Sir." The butler bowed and left the room.

Henry turned. He went to the cupboard and took out two glasses and a bottle.

"So…What brings you here, dear Duchess? It's unusual for you to make such sudden visits. Probably it's something important." he started as he was opening the bottle. "Scotch? You seem pinched in cold."

"No, thank you." The Duchess answered. She took off her traveling cape and gloves and left them on the nearest arm chair. She walked to the arch-shape windows. Behind them was a garden – a beautiful labyrinth of exotic flowers covered a large space of the mansion's outdoors. "Excellent garden" she said. "Are those black rose bushes in the front? I couldn't see them at the ball. Perhaps because of the darkness."

"Why yes, they are. They are extremely beautiful, when they are in bloom. Though they are a bit capricious." answered Henry. She sensed a shiver in his voice. "But I don't believe that the reason of your visit is my garden. So why did you come to see me?"

"Enough with the role-playing, Henry!" Eileen turned. Her icy glare pierced him. "The curtain is down. It's time to take our masks off. You very well know why I'm here."

"Eileen, I'm not sure, I understand…"

"Oh, you do understand, Baron!" said she with an angry voice. Then she sighed as if she regretted for her impulsive reaction. She turned her head and looked again through the window. It was snowing. She continued with her cold, calm voice. "I know everything. I know truth." Again her gaze fell on him, but it wasn't glaring at him furiously. Those glassy eyes were watching him questioning. "Now I want to hear the answer of a simple question: why. Why did you take Kathrin away from me?"

Henry turned and took a sip from his glass.

"You're out of your mind. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Firstly black roses outside. The Phantom's signature. They are very rare flowers and you know it. The only acquaintance of mine, who raises them, is Alexander Bowman. That why you chose them. You wanted to put the blame on him. Yes…He made the perfect suspect – indeed he has a good motive and not a very stable alibi. Besides he was riding with me when the Phantom sent his invitation and was present at the play at theatre." She paused. "But even if the police knew, that you're growing black roses in your garden, you still wouldn't be a suspect, right? Why, you've just bought this marvelous manor and the garden comes with it. How could you possibly grow such…what you called them – ah, yes, capricious flowers; for such short time, during the winter at that? But even this mystery has its answer. Actually you didn't buy the house now, did you? You've bought it five years ago, under a false name – Emilio Sanzio. _Emilio_, because it's a common name in Italy, and _Sanzio_, after your favourite Italian painter – Raffaello Sanzio. Actually at first you were in possession of the house for short, but then you've transferred it to this nonexistent person. A copy of the muniments is being kept at the local government and from time to time they are given to me as a landlord to check them. And as the flowers are concerned, I guess you've asked Alexander to give you some seeds to try to grow them. You know his passion for his garden and his kind-hearted temper. He wouldn't reject such a request. But those are mere assumptions. Even I wouldn't be convinced in them. There isn't any solid evidence to support my thesis. Except for one thing." Eileen went to the wall with the trophies. She took one of the duel pistols. "This is what gave you away and made me research whole this information. I remembered the gun's butt with craved floral motives and inlayed gems. Besides it's made of pure silver – not every criminal posses one like that. And it is my contention, that I have quite the good eye for details." She turned the gun and pointed a small hole in the wooden butt. A small gem appeared in her hand. The Duchess put it in the hole. It fitted perfectly. "You've dropped this, during your performance at the theatre." She threw a triumphal look at him. "Now don't you think it's time to answer my question? Wasn't I thorough enough?"

The Baron took another sip from his glass. He looked at the chess board standing in front of him. A game was being played. The pieces were scattered around the board. He took the black bishop and moved it, putting away a pawn. The white queen remained unprotected. Eileen waited patiently for his answer.

"Good job, Duchess." started he. "I wasn't expecting that much from you. You continue to surprise me with your exceptional persistence. You're right, you got me. As you said, there is no need to keep my mask on anymore. Indeed, I'm the one; you were looking for whole this time." He leaned against the wall. "And since you found back your thesis with excellent arguments, I think it's a worthy reward to give you the answer of your question." He left the glass on the fireplace. "I'll start with this house. Yes, I bought it under the name Emilio Sanzio five years ago. It was meant to be my wedding present for you. If you still remember, we used to be engaged back then. And the black roses, well, at first they weren't supposed to be the Phantom's signature. I just wanted to have black roses at the garden as a memoriam of your parents. Your mother loved flowers and she always wanted to grow black roses at your mansion, but she never had the chance to. Now back to your question _why_. It's simple. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect you from all those people, who wanted to bring you down. That's why I killed them, I killed them all." Henry's expression changed. A twisted smile appeared on his face. "I helped you to get rid of your business problems, in order for us to get married sooner, but no…back then you continued to hesitate. And it was all because of that little brat – your sister. She deliberately stood in our way." Eileen clenched her fist, but she continued quietly listening to the Baron's story. He took the white queen from the chess board. "Then I thought: Maybe I should remove some more pawns in order to get the precious queen. This is the only way to make her to come to me." Again his voice changed. "But did she come? No…She ran away. She locked herself up and didn't even let me come near her. The whole plan went wrong." He turned to her. There was a spark of insanity in his gaze. He stepped closer "That's why I did it, Eileen – I did it for us; for our love; for…"

A loud slap resounded in the room. The Duchess' hand was marked on Henry's face. His cheek turned red. He looked at her with surprise. She was standing in front of him. Only the cold blade of a rapier parted them. She had clutched its grip so hard, that her knuckles had turned white. Behind her empty gaze blazing flames were arising.

"Eileen…Why…" he tried to ask.

"You did it for our sake; you say…For our love…" she interfered. "No, Henry, you did it for yourself. You wanted to make me marry you, didn't you? You were so desperate that you took away my most precious thing, my only family left." She took a deep breath. Her thoughts were pulsing in her head. "And even if I married you, how could you bear my love, when you did such an awful thing to me? When did you become such a monster?"

"Eileen, I'm sorry; I…" He tried to step closer, but the rapier's tip touched his chest.

The Duchess was standing firm in front of him. Her glassy eyes of fixed on him, as if she was casting her final sentence.

"The thing you've done is unforgivable, Baron. While you had your mask on I told you, that I'll avenge my sister at all costs. Even if it means to take the life of the man, I once had feelings for."

Henry took a step back. His expression had changed. He looked calm.

"Very well then. You leave me no choice…"

He also drew a rapier and dealt the first blow. She parried and counterattacked. Her blade slightly reaped his shirt.

"Indeed, you are serious."

He tried to strike again, but she blocked his attack. Then she made him parry her blows until she knocked out the rapier from his want and pressed him against the wall.

"Touché!" he said. "You won." They remained so for few moments. She said nothing. She just observed him with her cold gaze. He smiled. "You know Eileen, you've always had one problem. You hesitated in everything you ever did, only because you wanted to obey the rules, to play the game properly. That's why I have one advantage." Though the blade, he leaned slightly forward and whispered. "I never obey the rules" Then he quickly took out a small knife from his belt and stabbed Eileen in her hip. The pain went through her whole body and made her shrivel, dropping the rapier. She swayed and came down on the floor. She pressed the wound with her hand. Her palm turned red.

He took up the rapier and pointed it to her throat. She didn't even shiver. He gently cut her ribbon.

"I've always wondered why you are constantly wearing ribbons around your neck." On her delicate skin there was a pentagram-looking scar. "Oh, I see you've found yourself a new hobby. But even the black arts won't help you now. I told you back then; that I'm the one, holding the weapon, my dear" ironically he said. "Your fate was always in my hands."

"Allow me to disagree on that, dear Sir." Another voice resounded in the room. "I don't think the Duchess' fate is in your hands."

The Baron turned. Eileen with surprise recognized the third person in the premise. In front of them was standing a handsome young man, wearing black topcoat and gloves. His slightly reddish eyes were set on them.

"Well, if it isn't the Duchess', loyal dog – her butler. Did you come to rescue your precious Master? You did quite the foolish thing, my friend. You forget that we are at my mansion now. I have many servants, who will…"

"What? Come after me, when you call?" Michael interfered. An evil smile appeared on his face. "I wouldn't count on that, if I were you." He dropped a small kitchen knife covered with blood. Henry startled. Michael leaned and took a rapier from the floor. "Now since, my lady is injured, I'll consider that I have her permission to deal with you, Baron. It's my duty as the butler of the Griffin family after all."

"Don't you think you take me too lightly, Michael." Henry stepped back and faced him with his blade. He swung to strike, but the butler avoided the cut.

"Not at all, Baron. You're a very dangerous rival."

Michael attacked. Henry parried and counterattacked. For his surprise the butler was stronger and quicker then he thought. Eileen simply observed them, as she was in trance. They brought down the chess board and some of the trophies. Henry felt, that he'd been overpowered. He leaned on the table, when he tried to parry Michael's blow, but instead he found himself lying on the ground near Eileen. The blade's tip was pointed to his chest.

"Game over, Baron Carpenter." The butler turned to Eileen. "Now, dear Duchess, I'm waiting for your orders."

Eileen startled. It seemed that the butler's words woke her from her trance. She turned to him. Her eyes widened.

"Micha..." before she could say anything a gunshot resounded in the room. Michael's body fell on the floor. Henry threw away the gun as he stood up. He looked at Duchess' shocked face. Suddenly he started laughing.

"No, no, no…That can't be." The Baron said. "So for once the rumors are true – you fell for this servant. No wonder he was following you everywhere. You've fallen so low, my dear. I didn't expect such thing from you." He grabbed her chin. The insanity has returned in his eyes. "I won't allow it. As I said your fate is in my hands and…" Henry's face froze. He tried to look back. A dark silhouette was standing behind him, stabbing him with his own rapier.

"And as I said I disagree with you" a voice whispered. It sounded deep and imperious. "Because her fate is in my hands."

With fear Henry recognized his assassin.

"How is it possible? I just shot you." He said coughing.

"You see, Baron, even if this body is destroyed, I will protect her. Well, until our covenant is over."

"What are you?"

An evil smile appeared on his face. He had taken off his gloved. On his hand there was pentagram-looking mark – the same like the one on Eileen's neck. He stared at the dying man with his glowing red eyes.

"For I am a demon and a butler."

Eileen watched as the Baron's body fell on the floor. His warm blood soaked in her dress, Again the red blurred her vision. It was over…

…Or not quite over yet. She felt that the darkness engulfed her. The air around her became colder. A chill shivers went down her spine. There was no blood, no pain; just the well-known unpleasant presence. She smiled slightly.

A starched hand appeared from the darkness – a gesture, she had been waiting for so long. She took his hand and stood up. He was in front of her, but he didn't look like an ordinary human being anymore. His evil aura wrapped him. Only his glowing crimson red eyes were same – tempting and dangerous. His spider web had already caught her and there was no escape. Still smiling she said:

"So the time has finally come for me to fulfill my part of the deal."

He nodded and stepped closer to her. His evil aura became heavier. Compared to him, she looked like fragile, porcelain doll, which was about to break any minute, but she still stood in front of him proud, calm and unshakable. Her empty, glassy gaze was set on him. He looked inside those beautiful, shining, icy shards, which where placed on her expressionless face; but now he couldn't sense nor anger, or fear. Instead they were filled with resignation and stillness. Did she realize that she was looking upon death itself? Yes. Actually she wanted to disappear.

He put his tattooed hand around her neck, as if he was taking off an invisible collar. Again she could hear the clatter of the invisible chains that bind them. It was a familiar scene – the Hound and his Master, the Puppet and Puppeteer; the Prey and the Predator. He touched her scar with his cold long fingers, then her pale face and lifted her chin. She didn't even shiver at his touch.

"Do you have any regrets, milady?" asked he.

"Regrets you say…" she started. Then she remained silent for a minute. "Maybe just one. Because I hesitated to kill the murderer of my sister with my own hands and let you to finish him instead."

He smiled evilly at her. Even now she hadn't given upon her sarcasm.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"My fate has been already decided the day I accepted your offer. Let's just put an end to this useless masquerade."

He leaned slowly forward. He gently pressed his lips on hers. She closed her eyes and sank into his arms. Images of her long forgotten memories started to dance like snowflakes around her. A set of emotions arose in her – joy, sorrow, happiness, grief; they blazed her from the inside. She felt that bit by bit her body went numb and the images began slowly to fade. One last thought resounded in her mind: "_Father, Mother, sister it seems that I won't be able to join after all. Please, forgive me._" With thus she fell lifeless into his arms. He gently put her on the ground. He glanced at her – her glassy eyes were closed as if she was asleep, but her chest didn't rise anymore. His glowing red eyes fell on her pale pace. He noticed something on her cheek. A single tear oozed down her tender skin. He caught it with his finger and picked it.

"So the Ice Queen had a heart after all." He said. He squeezed the tear. When he opened his fist in his palm there was a small crystal. He threw one last look on her stiff and stark body – even in death her youth gave her exceptional beauty. He smiled. "I shall keep this as a precious memory from you, Mistress."

Then he turned and slowly disappeared, engulfed in darkness. Behind him left the lifeless Snow White, lost in her eternal sleep.


End file.
